I'll Stand By You
by KalenCaelli
Summary: It was supposed to be their little secret. But when demons from Amanda's past come calling, the fallout threatens to expose the truth and threaten all she and Olivia hold dear. Sequel to Relapse.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: I'll Stand By You**

 **Author: KalenCaelli**

 **Rating: M**

 **Disclaimer: Law & Order: SVU and its characters are the property of Dick Wolf and related associates. I just borrow them, fantasize about them, and return them slightly disheveled but a hell of a lot more satisfied. I'm not making any money off this story. If I was I'd have a magic wand to make these characters magically come alive. And a kitten.**

 **Author's note: This story was never supposed to happen. Relapse was supposed to be a one shot, Olivia and Amanda were never supposed to end up together. But sometimes characters take me in directions I'm not expecting, and thus here we are. Almost as soon as I began writing it this sequel began to take shape. I had a couple of different working titles, but this one won (the song playing on the car radio may have helped. A little. Okay a lot). I'm a little leery about posting a story that's not fully completed, but I've got it about three-quarters finished, and at the insane pace I'm writing I figure it's safe to assume I'll be able to keep ahead of my usual update schedule. And if not, well I can always throw out some M-rated one shots for you all.**

 **That being said, this story covers some pretty sensitive subject matter, some of which may be triggering. This includes references to rape, child abuse, sex abuse, abuse of the English language, and abuse of some eardrums. Use your best judgement when reading.**

 **Reviews are always appreciated, and may make me write faster/more/plan for a third sequel depending on how often they come. *hintcoughhint***

 **One more thing, I have a special dedication for a woman who has stood by me through thick and thin. I love you baby – thanks for being my hero.**

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 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 1**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

The bar is an elegant one, tastefully decorated in hues of muted blues, purples, and golds. A tuxedoed man with thinning silver hair plays a baby grand piano in the corner, the soothing melody setting the ambiance this late Friday evening. The bar's patrons are equally elegant, a veritable laundry list of who's who of New York City's upper crust.

Amanda sits at the marble and mahogany bar, trailing the tip of a finger along the rim of her untouched cosmopolitan, her other elbow propped along the marble bar's countertop, long blonde hair covering the tiny microphone that is hidden in her left ear.

"Suspect four o'clock," she mutters into her wrist, her bracelet concealing a second microphone, crossing her legs and resting her forearms on the counter. She is wearing a sequined black cocktail dress that allows her to flaunt her well-defined legs and provides ease of movement, but dressy enough to play the part she is simulating. Her long blonde hair is down, wavy, tumbling artfully over mostly-bare shoulders and her makeup is a little heavier than she prefers, but which fulfills the role she is playing.

"Is this seat taken?" The suspect is handsome, no doubt. Tall, wearing a fitted blue Armani knockoff, with wavy brown hair and eyes as blue as her own, Eric Fowler looks every bit the stockbroker he is not.

And every bit the rapist he is.

It has been a nearly impossible case from the start. Lack of DNA, lack of forensics, reluctant, unreliable witnesses who just happen to be high-end escorts... the list literally goes on and on.

But each case is linked by a few similar threads, this introduction being one of them.

Amanda flashes a smile that covers up the utter nausea she feels inside and nods to the seat to her right. Eric slides smoothly onto the barstool next to her. "Buy you a drink?"

Amanda nods, feigning interest, knowing that every second of this interaction is being watched and recorded on monitors by her squad mates, her ADA, and her lieutenant. Her partner is in the corner of this room, watching her six and ensuring things do not go off script.

"What would you like to drink, sir?" The bartender is wearing a white tuxedo that probably costs more than her entire wardrobe with a suitably snooty expression befitting his station. He offers no sign that he knows Amanda, even though he spent more than two hours with her less than a day ago, hammering out a plea deal that would see him facing less jail time for his role in this case.

"A scotch, on ice," he orders with well-practiced mannerisms of the upper crust, and Amanda guesses most of the patrons of this establishment would be surprised to know he's really the son of a second generation plumber from Queens.

"And for the lady?"

Amanda opens her mouth but he touches her arm, interrupting her. "If you'll allow me?"

 _By all means you sanctimonious prick._

"A martini, shaken, double olive," he flashes an attractive smile, his hand lightly rubbing her forearm. She makes an internal note to scrub that part of her body with bleach once she gets back home. Outwardly, she smiles and tosses her hair over her right shoulder, exposing more of her neck, her eyes taking in every verbal and nonverbal clue that this is their guy.

The drink order is a start, something all the victims have in common. Her physical body type another, since all of the victims were blondes of roughly her height and build. It's circumstantial, but it's a start.

"I'm not in the habit of letting strangers buy me drinks, Mister...?" Reaching up subtly behind her neck to increase the volume on the microphone, hidden by her hair.

"Scott," his perfect smile broadens, taking her by the wrist and kissing the back of her hand.

Great, even more of her body to be scrubbed down.

"I'm Amber," she says a little too brightly, playing up on all the blonde stereotypes she genuinely abhors. "And what is it you do Scott?" Flipping her hair over her shoulder, watching as his eyes level on the exposed skin. All of their victims had bite marks and bruising on the shoulder area.

"Wall street." Their drinks arrive, and he takes a sip of his scotch, a smug smirk pasted onto his features. "Investment banker."

"Sounds really complicated," Amanda giggles and sips at her own drink, which thankfully is just water, as previously arranged with the barkeep.

They make small talk for a few minutes, and Amanda plays her role admirably, pretending to get more and more intoxicated as the evening goes on.

After a while, a familiar voice pipes up on her ear mic. _**"Try to bring him in, Rollins."**_

Only one voice can call her that and elicit such arousal.

Amanda listens to him prattle on for a few moment before feigning exhaustion.

"It was so nice to meet you, Scott," Amanda nods to the barkeep. "Just charge it to room 315."

 _Check._

"Can I at least get your number?" Eric feigns disappointment at having their evening cut short. Holding out a fake business card and a pen, Amanda scribbles the number for the SVU tip line, knowing the suspect would never call it.

"Maybe I will see you tomorrow?" Amanda asks, knowing she never would, but Eric nods, lying.

"I'll look for the most beautiful woman in the room." He's laying it on thick, and Amanda gags internally, but forces herself to stand, feigning wooziness.

He is on his feet in an instant, bracing her, his arms wrapped around her body with surprising strength. "Hey there, are you sure you are okay?"

As if he cares.

"I just feel dizzy, all of the sudden." Amanda wobbles on her feet. All of their victims had GHB in their system, usually slipped in by the bartender. It was the first clue they'd solved. The bartender had been taken into custody the day before and offered a plea. He is assisting them in exchange for pleading to a lesser charge.

And it is one of these reasons she is alcohol- and GHB- free.

"I better help you to your room," Eric offers, walking Amanda in the direction of the elevators, hands gripping her upper arms tightly. For her part, she plays the role of a drunk very well, stumbling about and tripping over the threshold of the elevator, bumping against the wall. It's a performance worthy of an Oscar.

He hits the button for the third floor.

It isn't until they arrive there, and the grip on her arm tightens painfully, that she has her first inkling that something is wrong.

He begins to move her, hard, in the wrong direction, pushing her into a nearby stairwell.

"Wh..."

The gun materializes out of nowhere, pressed low against the small of her back, and a voice whispers next to her ear.

"Make a move and your guts will be scattered on the wall."

She freezes, her mind trying to wrap around this latest turn of events. How had she missed this?

 _ **"Rollins?"**_ Her earpiece crackles to life, her lieutenant's voice a little sharper than normal. _**"What's going on?"**_

"What do you want?" Amanda asks, aware that she's been made and that her life depends on her cooperation. But she has to ask the question, if only to buy herself time for the others to find her.

Eric hits her on the back of her head with the gun's handle, causing her to cry out in pain, stars erupting in her field of vision.

 _ **"Rollins!"**_

"Make another sound and the next time you won't be so lucky."

Amanda nods silently, blinking back tears as he shoves her against the wall, pinning her, holding his gun to the base of her neck and patting her down her sides roughly for hidden weapons. She grimaces when his hands slide up her leg, his progress halting just shy of her crotch.

"An unarmed undercover officer," Eric's breath is low against her ear. "And I thought the NYPD was smarter than that."

Amanda closes her eyes, praying he doesn't look inside her clutch, where she'd hidden her drop gun. Right now it's pinned between her and the wall, not in a place she can easily access it, and if she tries, there is no guarantee Eric won't kill her.

How had he learned she was a police officer?

 _ **"Hold on,"**_ Olivia's voice is tight, with an undercurrent of frenzy. Amanda can almost visualize her colleagues racing down the hallway towards where the banks of elevators resided. _**"We're coming."**_

"Move!" He shoves the gun into her back, forcing her to climb up the steps. She delays as much as she dares but Eric makes her move quickly, sometimes taking the steps two at a time, not an easy feat in heels.

Her head is aching painfully as he opens the stairwell door to the fourth floor, shoving her through right as Amanda hears voices in the lower corridor. Throwing her roughly against the wall he swipes a thin piece of plastic she recognizes as a hotel room key, pushing Amanda into the room and closing the door swiftly behind her.

She is on her own now. Fear begins to gnaw at her gut, remembering another hotel room, another time...

No, she can't go there.

 _ **"Rollins, if you can hear us, give us some kind of hint as to where he's moved you."**_

"What, no _fore_ play?" She quips darkly, grimacing as he smacks her across the side of her head with his sidearm again, ears ringing as she falls to the ground. Her clutch flies across the room. Bile rises in the back of her throat, her right hand covering her mouth as she tries to fight it.

 _ **"Are you saying you're on the fourth floor?"**_

Eric kicks her in the stomach, the toe of his shoe catching her in the stomach once, twice. Amanda groans, arms wrapping around her stomach in pain.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up, bitch cop?" Kicking her once more for good measure, his eyes fill with a darker rage that turned her blood to ice.

 _ **"Amanda!"**_

Gasping for air, Amanda finally chokes out her reply. "Yes!" Eric's foot coming to a halt inches from her body. That her reply isn't meant for him doesn't seem to cross his mind.

He grabs her by the arm, roughly, tight enough to bruise, half-lifting, half-dragging her towards the bed. Amanda knows she should fight him on this, but she's still having a hard time catching her breath and her mind is already flashing back to Atlanta and to Patton.

"How..." she blinks, trying to center herself in the present. "How did you know?" Hoping he doesn't start hitting her again.

 _ **"We're on the fourth floor, Amanda. But you've got to give us a room number."**_

"How do you think?" Throwing her roughly on the bed, crudely cupping his groin.

 _When working in pairs, every criminal duo has a dominant and a submissive partner._

Pistol leveled at her face, Eric takes a step closer, the corner of his mouth curling in a half-snarl.

The bartender. It was the only way.

"How did Tommy tell you?" Trying to buy time — time enough for the others to reach her before he rapes her.

Or worse.

 _ **"Amanda, we need more. We have the exits blocked but I need to know the room number. Give me something. Anything."**_

"You tell me, sweetheart," Eric began unzipping his fly.

" _No no no no no_ ," Amanda began scrabbling backwards, genuine panic beginning to consume her, praying that the others will figure it out before it's too late.

Not again. Anything but this.

"You're going to do what I tell you, bitch, or I'm going to put so many holes in you..."

There is a loud bang, the door to the room flying open with a crash. Lieutenant Olivia Benson is the first through, sidearm raised, and before Amanda can even process what's happening three things occur almost simultaneously.

"NYPD, freeze!" Olivia announces, leveling her Glock at their perp's chest, eyes blazing with a righteous anger.

Eric spins, his pistol lifting as he brings it to bear on the brunette.

"Gun!" Amanda calls out, afraid that their perp will catch Olivia by surprise the way she herself had been.

The gunfire is deafening in such a small space, a spray of blood slicing the wall, tiny droplets splattering across her face and body.

"Amanda?"

Amanda stares at their perpetrator, eyes glossy, ears ringing, her pulse pounding furiously in her ear. The blood is pooling around his body, soaking the plush white carpet a dark crimson. Eric is lying in the center of that pool, fly open, a single bullet hole in his temple. His icy blue eyes are unseeing, his gun having fallen from his loose fingertips. His expensively-tailored suit is rumpled and Amanda idly wonders if the shop where he rented it from is going to want it back.

"Amanda?"

Those pale blue eyes slide over to concerned brown ones, and Amanda nodded, weakly.

"Sorry lieutenant," Amanda feels weak, almost ashamed. "He got the drop on me. I didn't see it coming."

"As long as you're okay," Olivia murmurs, her hand lifting a fraction before dropping, and Amanda can tell the older woman is struggling against the urge to gather her in her arms. Their newly-established relationship is a closely guarded secret, one that no one in their unit has yet deduced. Amanda tries to stand but promptly sits down, woozy.

"Liv, is she okay?" Fin and Dodds have just materialized, Carisi a half step behind them. "Man we got a hell of a mess here." Fin shakes his head, surveying the crime scene, finally falling on where Olivia is kneeling next to his partner.

"It was a good shoot," Olivia says, glancing over at the rest of their unit with an air of authority. "Suspect was armed." A pause as she shifted into commander mode. "Carisi, I want you to take our friend the bartender back to holding. Let Barba know he is no longer a cooperating witness. Dodds," Olivia turned slightly, "you and Fin get a bus and CSU here and then stay here to process the scene. And," her voice elevates slightly as Fin prepares to protest the assignment, "I will accompany Rollins to the ER since I have to give a sample anyways."

Fin and Olivia stare at each other for a long moment, and then Fin nods, stepping out into the hallway, cellphone against his ear, Carisi on his heels.

"Dodds, can you wait downstairs for CSU?" The dark-haired sergeant nods, trailing after Finn.

Leaving Amanda and Olivia alone.

"Liv," Amanda's voice is low but insistent, "I don't want to go to the doctor. Please, can I just go home?" Pleading with her eyes, begging her to cave, just this once.

No go. Olivia shakes her head, "You're getting checked out in the ER immediately. Now were you hurt anywhere?"

She knows what Olivia wants to ask, and Amanda shakes her head lightly, her stomach roiling, fighting the urge to vomit all over her expensive high-heeled boots.

"Just hit me a couple of times with his..." she's having problems forming the words she wants to say, "gun." Olivia's eyes widen as she probes Amanda's head tenderly, the blonde wincing as those very fingers find a rapidly rising knot hidden by her hair.

"Oh Amanda," Olivia murmurs as she withdraws her fingers, pulling the younger woman against her side, pressing her lips against the crown of her head. Grabbing her flashlight, she first examines one pupil, then another. "You've got a concussion, sweetheart." The brunette pauses, gathering her thoughts. "A bad one too, by the looks of it."

"Does this mean we get to play docto..." It is getting more and more difficult to keep her eyes open, and Olivia shifts quickly, gathering Amanda's face in her hands and tapping her lightly on her cheeks.

"Amanda, sweetie, you need to stay awake for me." There is an undercurrent of urgency in Olivia's tone, sleepy blue eyes blinking fuzzily, focusing on the woman she loves with all her heart.

"Fin where is that bus?" Louder now, more urgent. "Amanda stay awake for me. Please honey you've got to stay awake."

The last thing Amanda remembers before slipping into unconsciousness is Olivia's voice calling her name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: This is a pretty short update, and because of that, I'm going to give you all another one in the middle of this week. For the most part, each chapter will rotate from one character's point of view to another. There are a few chapters where I double up on one point of view. To make it easier for you to follow, any segment from Amanda's perspective will have A's in front of it, and from Olivia's will have O's. I got that idea from agapeandzoe.**

 **I also threw a Need update for those of you, who like me, need pointless smut to liven up your lives. Three cheers for smut. Hip hip...**

 **No puppies, kittens, or garden gnomes were harmed in the making of this chapter, but a few detectives may be if I don't see some reviews.**

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 **OOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 2**

 **OOOOOOOOOOO**

The beeping of the hospital monitor is the only sound that permeates the room where Amanda Rollins lay.

Olivia Benson is folded up into the hard plastic chair in the corner, absently rubbing the injection site where her blood was drawn — standard procedure for any officer-involved shooting. She isn't terribly worried, though she knows she has to speak to IAB later today. What does worry her, however, is the smaller blonde detective sleeping on the hospital bed in front of her.

It's a little after two in the morning. Carisi and Fin are still at the crime scene with Dodds. Aside from when the orderlies collected the blonde for her CT scans, Olivia hasn't left Amanda's side, pulling a chair up to the edge of the bed, taking her girlfriend's right hand between her own.

It still floors her, at times, to think of the younger woman as her girlfriend. A little more than a month has passed since they'd made it official, and it has been one of the happiest months of her life. Getting to know the feisty detective — really getting to know her not just on a physical level but on a mental and emotional one as well — has been an absolutely amazing experience.

And with that deeper emotional intimacy comes an even greater physical intimacy, a heightened awareness of each other that transcends the bedroom and threads its way through their lives.

The mind-blowing sex doesn't hurt, either.

"L-Liv?"

Brown eyes snap down to where the younger woman lay, those cobalt orbs blinking fuzzily as they tried to process their environment. Olivia smiles, brushing a hand across a sweaty forehead, pushing aside those golden locks.

"Shhh..." she soothes, leaning down to brush her lips across that pale brow. It's a risk, given that their relationship is still a secret by necessity rather than by choice, both woman struggling to come up with a solution that saves both their careers and keeps them from administrative discipline. It's almost a given that one or the other will have to transfer following the disclosure of their relationship, and while Amanda has volunteered to transfer out of the precinct, Olivia has been dragging her feet on pushing through the necessary paperwork, secretly hoping she can find a way to keep them both in the same unit.

It's a long shot, but she still has hope.

"What happened?" Amanda shifts, attempting to push up on her elbows, wincing as some of deeper injuries make themselves known. Olivia leans over, hooking her arm through Amanda's own to help her sit up.

"You were injured, honey," releasing the blonde to settle against the back of the bed, arms dropping to take her by the hand once more. "Do you remember how?"

Amanda scrunches up her forehead, the wheels in her head turning. "I was undercover at the bar." A pause. "I made contact with the perp." Those same blue eyes widen. "He had a gun and..." She straightens abruptly and winces as the pain catches her side, turning to face Olivia. "You shot him."

"And in the nick of time," Olivia mutters, darkly, recalling the fear and utter terror as she tried to decipher the clues Amanda had left. "He was going to assault you."

Amanda shifted, wincing once more. "Feels like he already did."

"Not _that_ kind of assault."

"Oh," there is a long, pregnant pause as both women process just how close this call truly was. Amanda reaches up, her fingers tangling in the chestnut-colored locks, her forehead coming to rest against Olivia's own. "It's okay, Liv. I'm okay."

Olivia pushes away, abruptly rising to her feet as she runs her hands over her face, clasping them over her mouth. "Really, a serious concussion and bruised ribs is okay?" She paces back and forth across the room. "All I could think about was what would happen if we didn't reach you in time. Every time he..." she swallows thickly "...hit you, I wanted to reach through my ear mic and..."

"Liv, come here," Amanda shifts, patting beside her. Olivia glances nervously towards the door but realizes that it will still be some time before anyone else from the squad comes to check on Amanda, and the brunette slips into the hospital bed. It is a tight fit, but by holding Amanda in her arms, she's able to make it work.

These are the complications that Olivia fears. She is supposed to be calm, objective, rational. Theirs is a dangerous job, and at any time one of them could be injured, killed even, and she will have to keep her composure. Compartmentalize until she is safely ensconced behind closed doors.

"I'm okay, Liv." Amanda's fingers trace idle circles over Olivia's stomach, the thin fabric of her blue blouse all that separates them. Brown eyes follow the tubing of Amanda's IV bag, the steady drip of saline providing an easy point of focus against these tumultuous emotions. Reaching a hand up to Olivia's cheek, Amanda gently turns the brunette's head, forcing those mocha eyes to meet her own blue ones. "I'm alright. You got there; you saved me. He got what he deserved."

Olivia leans in, pressing her lips gently against Amanda's, reestablishing that connection they both so desperately crave. Amanda sighs softly into the kiss, threading her fingers through Olivia's hair, mouth parting to allow entrance to the brunette's tongue, which begins exploring her mouth with a tenderness normally reserved for the privacy of their apartments.

After a minute, both women break it off, and after pressing a quick kiss to Amanda's forehead, Olivia reluctantly returning to her chair, and scooting it back to its original position in case someone from the precinct shows up.

"So how long am I grounded?"Amanda lays her head back with a groan, reaching up to feel the golf ball-sized knot on the back of her head.

"The doctor said they were going to keep you overnight for observation, and then you're on leave for at least two weeks." When the expected groans came, Olivia levels a stern expression on her subordinate. "Absolutely no questions asked."

"But Liv," Amanda whines, "what am I supposed to do for two weeks?"

"Count your lucky stars it isn't three?" Comes the droll reply, Olivia rolling her eyes. Some things never change.

Before Amanda can launch a suitable retort, there is a knock at the door, and Fin sticks his head through the opening. "Hey Liv, Amanda," dark brown eyes flash between the two ladies, opening the door once he realizes Amanda is awake. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I got clocked in the head with a baseball," Amanda smiles ruefully, tenderly rubbing the area around the knot. The blonde has always shared a good rapport with the African-American detective, their easy camaraderie like brother and sister. She is grateful that his is the first face she sees after Olivia's.

"Next time you should use your hands instead of your head to catch the perp, Rollins," Fin teases, his expression turning serious. "We got your message. Carisi and Dodds went back to the precinct to process the bartender. They'll be up here in a little bit to check on Rollins." His gaze shifts to Olivia's. "The sarge told me to tell you that CSU's finishing up the scene, but that both the chief and IAB are looking for you."

"The rat squad is already on this?" Great, both Chief Dodds and the Internal Affairs Bureau, Olivia groaned internally. How could she be so lucky?

"They showed up at the scene about five minutes after CSU." Fin shook his head, looking towards the woman who was both his superior officer and a dear friend, having come aboard a mere year after Olivia started at SVU. The speed at which IAB worked defied reason. "It was a good shoot, Liv. We all saw the gun."

"Not that it matters to Tucker," Amanda mutters darkly.

Olivia laughs, shaking her head even though privately she shares her subordinates' sentiments. She turns to Fin, rising to her feet. Inevitably she has to deal with business, even if all she wants is to stay here. "Consider yourself off duty until tomorrow."

"Sounds good, Lieutenant," Fin saunters over to the chair she has just abandoned, catching Amanda's eye roll out of the corner of her eye.

"I don't need a babysitter," Amanda protests, drawing her attention. With her arms crossed in front of her body, the blonde almost looks like a petulant toddler.

"Don't be ridiculous, Rollins," Olivia counters, reaching for the doorknob. "You're going to stay here and keep an eye on Fin."

She doesn't turn back around, but she smiles as she walks down the hospital corridor, the laughter of her subordinates echoing behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: As promised, you all get a weekday update, partly because I left the last chapter so short and in celebration of my girls being back on the air. I almost didn't do this, because I have 10 chapters to write to finish the story and my mind is already thinking I may do another story in this series, but I am a woman of my word, so...lucky you. Oh, and I promise this story will live up to its hype. Just hang in there.**

 **I have to give a special shout-out to my wife - she got me over the last hump and helped me figure out how this saga is going to end. She also reads everything and corrects any terrible fashion/decorating choices, argues with me over the proper use of the word bemusement and has helped me raise 3 amazing puppy babies, Lily "buddha belly" Puppins; Parker "Pretty Boy" Puppins; and Noelle "Lil' Skunky" Puppins. I love you babe. Thanks for being the love of my life.**

 **This chapter is brought to you by the letter T, the Number 3, and by numerous Twinkies. Reviews save puppies and kittens and make me more inclined to give you one shots and/or sequels.**

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 **AAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 3**

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By the time the hospital discharges her the next day, Amanda feels like she's going to go insane.

Because of the concussion she's not allowed to watch TV. She can't look at a cell phone, tablet, or laptop. She can't read. She can't drive.

She's been visited by all of her squad mates, but no one will fill her in on what's going on at the precinct or on their any of their open cases. Or any closed ones for that matter. Olivia didn't return to her hospital room until well after midnight and was gone by the time Amanda opened her eyes this morning.

Amanda thinks that if she has to endure much more of this she's going to go postal.

Fin takes her home, because Olivia is tied up with a 'very important case'. His words. Her own girlfriend can't be bothered to take her home from the hospital. Amanda cannot mask her disappointment as she allows the nurses to wheel her out, since the sky would apparently fall down if she actually walks somewhere. Fin loads up a small duffel bag filled with her old clothes, Amanda having changed into some comfortable but ugly-as-hell grey sweats the hospital loaned her.

"You feeling alright?" Fin asks her, seeing her sober features, and Amanda shrugs, refusing to look at him because he is so damned adept at reading her mercurial moods.

Fin starts the car, pulling out of the hospital parking lot, and Amanda feels a surge of nausea that she attributes to her concussion. She keeps her eyes closed until the wave passes, realizing that her early morning runs around her neighborhood are probably out of the question until she is feeling better.

 _Great. Just great._

Amanda realizes that Fin is still waiting for her to speak, and so she shrugs nonchalantly, glancing briefly over at him. "You know, I'm just not looking forward to two weeks of sitting on my ass when we're backed up so much." That didn't include the week afterwards of mandatory desk duty that Liv put her foot down about. Amanda had been nearly apoplectic when Olivia had told her about that development, the blonde rolling into her side and refusing to speak to her the rest of the evening.

"Maybe you can pick up a hobby," Fin offers helpfully.

Amanda turns her head, regarding him over the top of her sunglasses. "A hobby, really, genius?"

Fin shrugs, nonplussed by Amanda's sour demeanor. "Sure, painting or drawing or you can play cards with Carisi or..."

"Wait cards with who?" Amanda groans, her attitude leaving the realm of 'I just want to curl into a ball and sleep' to 'I am pissed and going to kill you now' territory. "Absolutely not." It was bad enough to have a steady stream of people in and out of her room at the hospital, but she absolutely did not need a babysitter in her own goddamn apartment. "Is Carisi at my apartment right now?"

"Hey, I just do as I'm told." Fin raises one hand in surrender since the other is gripping the steering wheel, and Amanda's blood pressure spikes.

"Told. By. Whom?" Her voice drops an octave, though she's already certain of the answer and is silently plotting ways for that person to die.

"The lieutenant is just worried because you don't have anyone to keep an eye on you in case something happens," Fin replies genially, apparently oblivious to Amanda's ever mounting anger.

"The lieutenant is going to spend the next year sleeping on my fucking sofa," Amanda mutters under her breath. _Or the next five._

"What was that?" Fin frowns, turning the corner to the street that houses her apartment complex, eyes scanning for a parking spot close to the front entrance.

"Nothing," Amanda scowls, her mood ever-darkening.

When the car finally stops, Amanda opens the door before Fin has a chance to protest, hopping out and opening the rear passenger door, grabbing her bag. She's a little nauseated, but still marches her way towards the front gate, entering her access code and storming in the front door, ignoring Fin's commands for her to slow down.

Amanda is absolutely sick of everyone telling her what to do and not do, and as soon as she gets upstairs and throws Fin and Carisi out, she is going to take a long, hot shower, go over to Olivia's apartment, and shoot her.

Okay, so maybe not shoot her. But break a few of her plates and glasses, maybe.

"Geez, where's the fire, baby girl?" Fin's chest is heaving, slightly winded from having to keep up with his partner. They step into the elevator together, Amanda repeatedly stabbing the button for her floor.

"You know, Fin, I've been taking care of myself a hell of a lot longer than I think you realize and the absolute last thing I need is a fucking babysitter." Amanda steps through the elevator's entrance and begins to storm down the hallway towards her front door. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"Okay, I get it, I get it." Fin comes to a stop outside her apartment a few feet behind Amanda.

Amanda glowers darkly at him. "Good night, Fin."

"Okay." Fin holds his hands up in surrender. "Okay. I'll see you later. Call me if you need anything."

Amanda opens the door, her senses assailed by the smell of Italian cooking and the sounds of the TV playing in the background. The blonde groans inwardly. She can't very well throw Carisi out on his ass if the man went through all this trouble to cook for her. Dropping the duffle bag on the floor, Amanda steps into her apartment and promptly freezes.

Olivia is standing in her kitchen, messy brown hair pulled back into a bun, wearing an off-the-shoulder light purple tshirt and grey capri workout pants, stirring and singing off-key to a song that is playing through her headphones. She seems completely absorbed in the tune, and Amanda's bad mood begins to melt away at the sight of her girlfriend doing something so utterly domestic.

"Oh hey sweetheart," Olivia pulls her headphones out, smiling broadly at the blonde detective, dipping out a bit of the marinara sauce and blowing on it gently as she crosses the room. "Here, taste."

"You planned this?" Amanda's head dips down, her lips wrapping around the end of the wooden spatula, groaning at the delicious explosion of flavors against her palate. "Oh my god Liv. Please tell me there's more where that came from."

The brunette smiles broadly, her head bending as she kisses Amanda. "Why don't you get changed into something more comfortable and I'll set the table." Touching her forehead to the blonde's, Olivia gives Amanda a quick peck on the nose and turns back towards the kitchen and to her off-key humming.

Amanda watches her, touched, and makes a mental note to give her partner hell the next time she sees him. There is no way Fin wasn't in on this. The blonde pads softly towards her room, mind already charting how she wants to spend the rest of her evening. The room is dark, and when Amanda flips the switch, she freezes.

There, in the middle of her bed, soundly sleeping, is a puppy.

"Do you like her?" The voice is right behind her.

Amanda is absolutely dumbstruck, glancing between the bed and her girlfriend and back again. Her eyes well with tears, emotion clogging her throat.

Olivia gathers her into her arms, pulling Amanda's back against her chest, kissing the top of Amanda's head. "I remember you telling me how much you missed your old dog in Georgia, and how much you wish you had another one."

Amanda can't speak, can barely breathe. No one has ever given her a present like this. _Ever._

She slowly extricates herself from Olivia's arms, crossing the room and resting her forearms on the bed, burying her nose in the golden pit bull puppy's fur and inhaling deeply. The puppy shifts, kicking its tiny white foot out as it stretches, yawning deeply, its little pink tongue curling as it smacks its lips together.

"This little one had been at the shelter for awhile, the rest of her litter mates had already been adopted," Olivia continues, resting a hand on Amanda's back.

"Her?" Amanda whispers as she simultaneously picks up the puppy, cradling the wriggling bundle in her arms, realizing that yes, it was in fact a girl.

Olivia nods. "They named her Frannie Mae," she reaches out with an index finger and scratches the puppy between the ears. "You can rename her, if you want."

"Frannie Mae," Amanda repeats, a sense of awe and wonder growing at this tiny little life that is now her responsibility. "It's perfect."

"I know two weeks is a long time, but I was hoping that maybe you and Frannie here can keep each other company while you recover?" Caressing a hand up and down her back, Olivia swallows, her eyes bright with unshed tears and the knowledge of how it all could have gone so very wrong.

Tears are streaming down Amanda's cheeks as she shifts the puppy to her left arm, right hand reaching up to tangle within Olivia's dark locks, pulling her closer for a passionate kiss.

Olivia moans softly into the kiss, her lips working gently against her lover's, tongues intertwining, caressing. Amanda cautiously sets the puppy down, aware that they cannot leave her unattended for long as she's just a baby, but needing to show Olivia just how appreciative she is. She slips her arms around the taller woman's waist, deepening the kiss.

"I..." kiss "love you..." and another "so much." Amanda explores Olivia's mouth with unrestrained passion, aware that the brunette is still being cautious with her injuries.

Olivia hums wholeheartedly against Amanda's mouth, kissing the younger woman until the telltale growl of a puppy forces the women to break apart.

"Oh god, Liv," Amanda laughs at the scraping of sharp puppy teeth against her backside. "I've got my work cut out for me."

"Hopefully you train her to listen better than you do," Olivia teases, and when Amanda smacks her lightly across the stomach, she laughs.

"Any more comments like that and you can forget that sex you were getting this evening," Amanda chides, picking up Frannie and setting her on the floor, laughing as she begins attacking Olivia's socks.

The brunette gently pushes the puppy away with her foot, rolling her eyes when Frannie grabs ahold of the end of her sock, opting to relinquish the offending article. The puppy shakes the sock violently before dropping to its belly and gnawing on it. "I guess I'll just have to take matters into my own hands," she smiles wryly, brown eyes flashing with mirth.

Amanda rolls her eyes. "Let's go eat so you can _fill_ me in." She can dish it out as good as she can take it.

Olivia grins, wrapping an arm around Amanda's waist as they make their way to the dining room, where Amanda sits at the table while the brunette goes back and forth between the kitchen and the table, dishing up a couple of bowls of spaghetti and meatballs, a plate of freshly baked garlic bread, and some delicious-looking salads.

"I can't believe you did all of this," Amanda murmurs, her face widening in awe as she pulls the salad in front of her. It tastes like a small slice of heaven after eating nothing but hospital food for the past twenty-four hours. "How did you pull this off? The guys had to be suspicious." She nudges Frannie with her toe, playing with the dog underneath the table.

Olivia scoops up the playful puppy, carrying her further into the kitchen, where Amanda can see a small dog carrier that she obviously missed before. Olivia tucks the puppy into the crate before sitting at the table, picking up a fork and spearing some of her own salad.

Olivia nods, chewing. "It was easier with Dodds and Carisi," she swallows. "I just told them the doctor had recommended you have someone stay with you and keep an eye on you. Carisi wanted to help out, but when I mentioned you might need help getting in and out of the shower..."

Amanda laughs, envisioning the Italian man turning a bright shade of red from embarrassment. "Oh I could have so much fun with this." Already thinking of ways she can tease her bashful and overly enthusiastic colleague.

"Amanda!" Olivia chides her blue-eyed girlfriend, her own brown eyes twinkling with amusement. The older woman shakes her head, finishing up the last of her salad and starting in on her pasta.

"What about Fin?" Her partner knows both of them too well to accept such an easy explanation.

Olivia shrugs nonchalantly, though Amanda sees traces of concern in her expression. "He hasn't said anything."

"He won't," Amanda sets her fork down, covering Olivia's larger hand with her own. "Fin has our backs." Knowing it to be true. Knowing Fin would go down protecting her and Olivia even if it cost him his own badge.

The worry doesn't quite leave Olivia's features, but her shoulders relax. "It won't come to that," she says, turning her palm over and squeezing Amanda's hand. Mocha eyes meet blue and Olivia smiles gently. "Now did I go through all this trouble of cooking for nothing?"

Amanda laughs, tabling those concerns for a later date, twirling the pasta around her fork and bringing it to her mouth. It is absolutely delicious.

"You are such an amazing cook," Amanda can't believe how hungry she is in light of all that's happened. Her ribs still ache where Eric's boot connected and her head still throbs, yet she can't be happier.

"I really enjoy having someone to cook for," Olivia smiles, dropping her hand, the women eating and talking in companionable silence. Only a couple of minutes pass before Frannie is scratching at the door of her crate, and Amanda looks over to Olivia, pouting.

"Can't we let her out?" Amanda glances between her girlfriend and the puppy, who is digging at the bottom of the wire door.

"Do you really want to start her begging this early?" Olivia responds dryly, eating another bite of her meatball. "You're the one who is going to be training her."

Amanda sighs, turning towards the table. Olivia is right about this, and together the women eat the remainder of their meals, talking and laughing and joking with each other.

After dinner, Olivia pulls out a goodie bag filled with toys, treats, and a large, crimson dog bed, and Amanda has a blast organizing and playing with the puppy while Olivia cleans up. Then the brunette joins her on the ground, trying to throw a small plush hedgehog and urging Frannie to fetch it.

"It may be a little while before she's able to do that," Amanda smiles as the brunette tromps over to the toy for what seems to be the umpteenth time. Olivia's laughter fills the room as she leans against Amanda, resting her head on the blonde's shoulder.

Amanda wraps her arm around the brunette, holding her, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "I love you," she whispers, her eyes watering as she regards Frannie attacking a yellow tennis ball. She inhales deeply, savoring the smell of Olivia's coconut-scented shampoo, repeating the gesture. "Every time I think I can't possibly love you more you prove me wrong."

Olivia squeezes the inside of her thigh, "I love you too, honey. More than you can possibly fathom."

Amanda reaches over with her left hand, lifting Olivia's chin with a pair of fingers and kissing her. Olivia's lips part instantly, and Amanda deepens the kiss, enthusiastically exploring her mouth.

Shifting in Amanda's embrace, Olivia lays back on the ground, pulling the blonde on top of her and threading her hand into her hair, moaning when the kiss ratchets up in intensity.

Then Frannie begins to attack the pair, barking excitedly and lathering them with kisses and gentle nips.

The ladies break apart, both laughing and groaning at the same time. Amanda rolls onto her back beside Olivia.

"The joys of being a parent." Olivia groans, covering her face with her arm to disrupt the puppy's roughhousing, using a nearby rope toy to distract her.

"Very true." She can't wipe the grin from her face, her head turning to her right to observe Olivia. The brunette seems completely relaxed, long brown hair fanned across the carpet, the hint of a smile tugging the corners of her mouth up to those perfect cheekbones.

"Is that something you want?" Amanda asks, feeling a little tug of fear in her stomach as she gives voice to the question. She hopes she hasn't crossed a line. Olivia is so amazingly good with children — the entire squad knows it.

And even though they haven't really discussed it, Amanda knows that Olivia's adolescence was extremely lonely, growing up the only child with an alcoholic mother.

Slowly, Olivia's head turns, her laser-like focus coming to bear on the blonde detective.

"I never really thought I would ever have a chance to have a family," Olivia replies sincerely. "Between the job and," she hesitates, "between everything that's happened, I'd given up."

Amanda reaches out, trailing the back of her fingertips across Olivia's cheek, unsurprised when the older woman captures her hand between her own and kisses her fingers gently.

"But now, with the right person," Olivia swallows thickly, her big brown eyes bright with unshed tears, "I think I would like that very much."

* * *

 **Author's Note: There you go, Frannie Mae is now in the Relapse-verse! Now to figure out Noah and Jessie...**

 **To see more Frannie, please review and provide feedback!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: Thanks for all the reviews. They are much appreciated. We're getting closer to the fun stuff, the angst, the drama. Enjoy the fluff while it lasts (*Cue Evil Grin*)**

* * *

 **AAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 4**

 **AAAAAAAAAA**

Olivia and Amanda continue to share and talk about the future, each woman shyly discussing a potential future bright with new possibilities.

"How many kids do you want?" Amanda asks, crossing a foot over her bent knee, bouncing her leg against the floor as she traces her thumb across the back of Olivia's hand. "Theoretically, I mean." She doesn't want to think she's already planning children with her. That'd be more than a little creepy.

"I'm not sure," Olivia says, her eyes closed, head resting against Amanda's shoulder. "I always wanted a brother or sister when I was growing up. So at least two."

"Trust me, siblings are _very_ overrated," Amanda responds dryly, rolling her eyes as her mind drifts to her sister Kim, serving time in upstate New York. "When I was growing up, I would have given anything to be an only child."

"So how many do _you_ want?" Olivia asks, head rolling to the side as those soft brown eyes focus on the blonde.

Amanda grins wryly, her blue eyes twinkling. "Two, at least. Then you can play them off of each other."

Olivia smacks her lightly on the stomach, her laughter revealing a perfect row of teeth. "You're terrible."

Amanda giggles, rolling over and planting her knees on either side of Olivia's hips, leaning down and planting her hands on either side of the brunette's head, pecking her lightly on the mouth.

"Now Liv, Let's go to bed."

A year ago, Amanda could not have imagined herself sitting here discussing the possibility of a future with Olivia Benson. Now, as she takes the older woman with one hand and leads her back to her bedroom she can imagine nothing else.

A sleeping Frannie has been settled into her crate, and even though Amanda still has a mild headache from getting clocked in the head, she's determined to show Olivia just how appreciative she is.

"Amanda, I love you but are you sure...?" Amanda raises her index finger to press against Olivia's lips, silencing her.

"No more talk," she tugs on the hem of Olivia's t-shirt, peeling the cotton over her head. The brunette's eyes darken in arousal, the hardening peaks of her nipples visible through the lacy white bra that contrasts perfectly with Olivia's olive skin.

Olivia's lips hungrily search out Amanda's, kissing her with a desire that can't be verbalized, her tongue demanding entrance that the younger woman readily grants. Amanda's own hunger grows as Olivia's tongue plunders her mouth, greedily tracing over her teeth and tongue.

Amanda's hands eagerly cup Olivia's breasts through the thin fabric of her bra, her thumbs brushing across those tightened nipples and causing the brunette to simultaneously gasp and arch into her touch. Her arms slide around Olivia's ribcage and unhook the clasp, slipping the straps down one shoulder, then the other, letting it fall carelessly to the ground.

Olivia cries out softly, breaking the kiss as those same hands cup her bare mounds, Amanda's lips moving across her chin and latching onto her pulse point. Olivia tugs impatiently at her sweatshirt, and Amanda lifts her arms, letting the older woman peel off the offending garment, hissing sharply and falling to a sitting position at the edge of the bed.

Brown eyes track across her middle, noting a pair of large bluish-purple bruises that spread out across her lower right rib cage, wrapping onto her stomach in the front and rising to armpit in the back. They begin to tear, tracing the mottled skin, across the underside of her right breast, and Olivia's hands gently but firmly grab the blonde's wrists.

"I'm so sorry," Olivia chokes out, dropping to the bed beside Amanda, a sob shaking her shoulders as she rests her forehead against Amanda's right shoulder. "I'm sorry that you got hurt. I should have been there sooner."

"No!" Amanda calls out sharply, her voice firm, her head dipping down as she grabs Olivia's chin, determined to keep her from going down this road of self-recrimination.

"Liv, this is part of the job," she squeezes her chin tightly to make her point. "Sometimes we get hurt in the line of duty. It happens. You did not do this." She shakes her chin gently for good measure. "You saved me, Liv. You got to me in time. He is dead and because of you all of those women can sleep knowing he can't hurt them anymore." A pause. "You are a hero."

Olivia pulls her chin away, sniffing as she wipes her face. Her chin drops for a moment, studying the floor for a long moment before lifting her index finger to trace over the skin.

"It doesn't hurt," Amanda says softly, and at Olivia's doubtful expression she adds, "my bookie hit me harder the first year I was with the unit."

Olivia regards her dubiously.

"Please," Amanda rests her hands on her knees, her body literally thrumming with unspent need. She pleads, "Let me love you."

"Amanda..."

"We'll go slow," Amanda cuts her off. "And at the first sign of discomfort we'll stop."

Their eyes meet in a silent battle of wills. At work Olivia may run the show, but here, behind closed doors in the privacy of their homes, they are equals.

Olivia nods slowly.

Amanda breathes a quiet sigh of relief and slowly closes the distance, kissing the brunette once more, feeling her lips yield once more to her desires, to her passion.

Amanda pushes down her sweatpants, glad for the first time that the hospital didn't provide underwear and making a mental note to burn the offending garments at first opportunity. She slowly lowers herself to the ground, tugging at the older woman's grey pants and she fights the urge to drool when Olivia leans back, lifts her hips and allows Amanda to remove both the stretchy pants and the lacy underwear in one smooth motion.

Would she drop to her knees for Olivia Benson? You bet.

Inhaling sharply the heady scent of Olivia's arousal, Amanda inclines her head towards the top of the bed, and follows the brunette as she scoots up towards the pillows, crawling between her legs like a feline stalking its prey.

Olivia lays back, biting her lower lip in anticipation, and Amanda settles back on her heels, her eyes devouring every square inch of that beautiful skin.

Convincing Olivia that she was still beautiful, still desirable, post-Lewis had taken a fair amount of work on Amanda's part, complicated even more by the fact that their encounters were presumed to be solely sexual without any real feelings behind them. Amanda still harbors a fair amount of guilt and Olivia a fair amount of uncertainty around the whole ordeal, leading to the start of a ritual that the blonde follows like clockwork any time Olivia lets her take the lead.

"God, Liv, you are simply breathtaking," she murmurs reverently, blue eyes skimming over her chest and abdomen, taking in every square inch of skin, every scar, every square inch that animal tried to mar, every square inch she has taken back for her own.

Amanda lowers herself on top of Olivia, thanking whatever God in heaven allowed her to return to this woman unscathed, kissing her softly, gently, connecting on a plane that exceeds the mere physical or psychological. Olivia's touch is oh-so-soft as her hands trace up and down the younger woman's spine, their passion gradually beginning to build.

They kiss like that for what seems like an eternity before her lips find their way along the sleek, exotic contours of Olivia's neck, kissing with her lips, nipping gently with her teeth, soothing and licking with her tongue. Amanda feels the pulse jump as she sucks her way down Liv's left carotid, the older woman's moans a sweet symphony to her ears.

Bracing her weight onto her left forearm, reveling in the delicious feel of Olivia's nipples skimming across her own, Amanda nibbles across Olivia's collarbone, sucking at the hollow of her throat, and down the center of Olivia's breastbone.

On any other day, Amanda would spend more time in this area, her lips paying a silent homage to the gorgeous woman who shares her bed. But she can sense Olivia's growing arousal and her growing impatience, and today, being in a generous mood, she's inclined to oblige.

Amanda detours briefly, tracing around a darker hued nipple with her tongue, her lips latching onto her breast and suckling on that delectable skin, trapping it between her tongue and her teeth and tugging on the hardened flesh.

"Oh God Amanda," Olivia cries out sharply, her fingers entangling with those blonde locks until they are tightly wrapped around her knuckles, Amanda welcoming the slight pain that loss of composure brings.

She lives for this, these moments when she can make Olivia Benson lose all sense of self-control.

Releasing the nipple with a reluctant pop, she makes her way to the other side, repeating the gesture, ignoring the impatient bucking of the hips beneath her, the growing scent of Olivia's arousal.

"Please," Olivia pushes against her head, fingers losing their strict hold, trying to guide her to where she is most needed.

How can she possibly resist?

Trailing her lips over the slight swell of her stomach, Amanda eases herself between Olivia's legs, reaching her true destination.

She _still_ remembers the day she first tasted Olivia.

Amanda rests her body between Olivia's bent knees, pressing a kiss to the tender skin of her right, then her left inner thigh. She inhales deeply the intoxicating scent of her arousal, before leaning in and pressing a kiss on those sensitive lower lips.

Olivia whimpers, her legs trembling slightly as her hips jerk towards the ceiling. Unable to resist, Amanda drags her tongue the entire length of her crease, listening as those whimpers turn into moans. She sucks on each of her lower lips before using her fingers to gently spread her apart, exposing the tiny bud of flesh that is her true destination.

When she wraps her lips around that pearl, Olivia's moans crescendo into louder cries, and as Amanda lathes that sensitive flesh she slips two of her fingers inside her core, a flood of moisture easing their passage.

Amanda establishes a steady rhythm, following primarily the brunette's cues as she takes Olivia closer to the ledge. The sweet taste of the brunette's arousal is absolutely mouthwatering, the heady scent of her arousal making Amanda's heart flutter, pushing her up and over as Olivia finds her release, her hips jerking spasmodically until the brunette is spent, collapsing onto the bed in a sweaty tangle of limbs.

The blonde slowly crawls up Olivia's body, the brunette drawing the younger woman tight against her side. Reluctantly Amanda pulls her fingers from inside Olivia, wrapping her lips around the digits, tasting every last bit of her lover's release.

"God, I love you," Olivia whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"That should be my line," Amanda teases, wanting to lighten the mood. "After all you are the one who bought me a puppy as a token of your affection."

Olivia laughs, squeezing her gently. "If it keeps you from hounding me to return to work every five minutes it will be worth it."

As if on cue, Frannie Mae starts to whine.

Amanda and Olivia glance at each other.

"No," Olivia's voice is low, firm, at the unspoken entreaty.

"But Olivia..." Amanda began.

"She has a perfectly good dog bed. Egyptian cotton. High thread count." Olivia shakes her head firmly.

Amanda pouts but is settles back against Olivia, silent, waiting.

After another five minutes, Olivia groans, rolling out of bed and padding naked to the kitchen. She can hear the older woman gently chiding Frannie, calming her with that soothing tone she so often uses with her victims, and Amanda can't help but grin. She listens as Frannie settles down, the sound of footsteps returning to the bedroom.

Amanda is a little disappointed when Olivia returns empty-handed, but decides that she can fight this battle again later.

A few minutes later the whining starts again.

"Oh for Chrissakes!" Olivia rolls out from her position under Amanda, much to the amusement of the younger woman, who giggles hysterically as Olivia tromps back into the kitchen.

Less than a day and Frannie already has Olivia wrapped around her paws. More singing.

And Olivia returns again empty handed.

"About time," Olivia mutters, after all is silent for a few minutes. "I thought I was going to have to go to my apartment."

"You wouldn't dare," Amanda smacks her stomach lightly, causing the brunette to grimace and rub where her skin was stinging.

"I guess not," Olivia grumbled, pressing a kiss against Amanda's forehead and wrapping her in a loose hug. "Maybe I should have gotten you a goldfish."

She jabs Olivia in the side, both women settling down.

The whining starts again.

"Oh for fucks sake," Olivia growls loudly, storming into the kitchen. Amanda sits up on her elbows, worried.

"She's just a baby!" Amanda calls out, wondering if Olivia is going to make good on her threat to return to her apartment.

All is silent for a few moments.

The door opens and Olivia enters again, depositing a squirming, twisting lump at the bottom of the bed. Frannie Mae begins turning around, settling in a little ball at the foot of the bed.

Amanda can't keep the grin off her face.

"Not one word," Olivia warns, crawling back under the covers, turning on her side and pulling the covers over her shoulder.

Amanda smirks, scooting close to Olivia and kissing her softly on her cheek.

"I love you," she whispers, curling against Olivia's body, sighing in contentment.

There is a pause, and after a minute a kiss brushes against her forehead.

"I love you too."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: A new chapter! And it's not even Sunday! I meant to post this a couple of days ago sort of as a combination of happy Wednesday and "guess what I finished writing the story" update. So yeah, 'I'll Stand By You' was officially finished earlier this week, which leaves me in a terribly** **quandary - do I post more frequent updates but run there being a larger delay between this story and its sequel, or do I keep with the generally once weekly updates. What do you fine people think?**

 **This chapter is brought to you courtesy of the letter P, the number 42 (It's my answer to everything), and the giant purple gorilla inflatable that I pass every day on my way home from work.**

 **It's dedicated to all my fine reviewers, who will have to let me know which of the above options they want.**

* * *

 **OOOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 5**

 **OOOOOOOOOOOO**

Olivia is in her office, sitting at her cherry wood desk, reviewing her report over the Fowler case. It's been a busy morning, starting off with a meeting with her superior — Chief Dodds, father of her erstwhile sergeant, followed by a meeting with IAB to deliver her statement on the shooting.

Fortunately neither of those meetings turned out to be difficult — the chief is just happy they closed their case and Tucker seems to have mellowed in his old age. Of course she's aware that no decisions on the undercover operation will be made today — the slow moving cogs of the NYPD machinery won't permit that, but at least the worst part of it all is done.

"Lieutenant?" Olivia lifts her head at the sound of her sergeant's voice, setting her pen aside and folding her hands together. The younger Mike Dodds enters the office, a file folder in hand.

"Those my DD5's?" Her team is doing a better job of finishing their paperwork since Dodds came aboard, and even though her department is still perpetually short staffed due to the never ending string of budget cuts that seem to afflict the NYPD, their case closure rate has never been higher.

They are becoming a well-oiled machine.

Dodds nods, setting the file on her desk, and she flips the manila folder open, eyes skimming over the reports. "How's Rollins doing?" Dodd's tone is curious, inquisitive.

Olivia studies the summaries, adopting the carefully schooled expression she's used to displaying around the precinct. She trusts her team implicitly in all matters but this, knowing the gravity of the current situation, knowing that the head of Manhattan's Special Victims Unit should not be involved with her subordinate.

As if she could control these feelings.

"I believe she is doing fine." She is well-versed in keeping all traces of emotion from her tone, lifting her eyes to meet Dodd's own. "Just a severe concussion. She can't return to active duty for two weeks, but she escaped more serious injury. I plan on having her on light duty for a week when she returns until she fully recovers."

"She may not handle the news of that very well," Dodds points out seriously, and Olivia wants to laugh at the utter irony of that statement. That Amanda had not handled the news well was an understatement. The blonde detective had been livid, in fact. But Olivia is in charge of this unit and had a responsibility to do what was in the best interests of the unit, and regardless of her personal feelings she would execute those duties without bias.

It was part of the reason she'd brought Frannie Mae home. At least she wouldn't be alone in the proverbial dog house.

"I'll handle informing Rollins." Knowing that Amanda was already aware of the restrictions surrounding her return to active duty. Lifting her gaze to level on the detective across from her, "what is the status of our other active cases?"

Dodds leans back in his chair and begins to summarize their active investigations, Olivia listening with half an ear since she already knows the answer to her question. Rather she begins to reflect on just how much her relationship has changed with Dodds and with the other members of her team.

She had been so leery of Mike Dodds when he first came in, the sergeant she didn't appoint but was forced to accept. Suspicious that he was simply an agent for his father, sent to report on her leadership of the unit. Maybe to even set in motion her removal from SVU. How wrong she has been. Dodds was every bit as loyal and as dedicated an officer as she could have asked for, in many ways reminding her of herself.

Odafin Tutola, the man she had wanted to serve as her second in command because she knows, implicitly, that he has her back. It hasn't always been that way; in fact their relationship was downright antagonistic when they first started working together nearly sixteen years ago. But fate and circumstance had partnered them together on many occasions, and not once had he ever let her down. Her trust and loyalty had been written in stone after the events at Sealview, when she asked him to omit the details of her assault and he did so without questions, even when pressed by both Elliott and the captain.

Then there is Sonny Carisi, the young, happy-go-lucky detective who seemed put on this unit to test her patience perhaps even more so than Amanda. The one who was everything she had not asked for, but who ultimately proved his worth and mettle time and again. Time had tempered some of that boyish enthusiasm, but watching his growth and development as a detective was something to behold.

Amanda Rollins — sometimes she can scarcely believe it herself. That she would carry on an affair with her fellow detective, and a woman no less. That she would fall in love with that detective, that she would risk everything to forge a relationship with that woman. That she would seriously consider building a future together with that woman.

Babs Murphy would be laughing her ass off if she could see her now.

Olivia wonders what Amanda is doing right this instant. She misses her terribly and the day is not even half over. Hopefully, she is taking it easy, enjoying her time with Frannie.

"Lieutenant?"

Olivia blinks, chocolate brown eyes coming back into sharp focus on Dodds. A little embarrassed to be caught unaware, she rubs the back of her neck. "Sorry Dodds, I didn't sleep very well last night." For as much as she abhors lying, this one rolls easily off her tongue. She slept fine — she has just been caught daydreaming about one of her detectives.

Dodds studies her for a moment before nodding. "I can handle filing some of those reports if you need to take a few minutes."

A single laugh escapes her throat, Olivia appreciating the offer but knowing ultimately that she will never allow herself to accept. It's just not in her nature to shift her responsibilities onto anyone else's shoulders. "I really appreciate it Mike." And she means it. "But I'll be fine. Nothing a cup of coffee won't fix."

The phone rings, and Olivia simultaneously picks up and looks at the caller ID. Mercy General — that never brought good news.

"Benson," she motions for Dodds to stay. He had been pushing himself to his feet to afford her some privacy.

 _ **"This is Dr. Emmanuel Richmond over at Mercy General. I've got a possible child abuse case I need to report. The patient is an eight year old girl with bruises along the back, stomach and thighs. They appear to have occurred at different times. The child's babysitter brought her in when the child complained of a stomachache. There's also evidence of some healing spiral fractures on both forearms."**_

Olivia closes her eyes, her heart heavy, through only for a moment. "We'll be there." Hanging up the phone, looking expectantly at her number two. "Take Carisi and get over to Mercy General. We've got a suspected child abuse case waiting for us. Eight year old girl."

Dodds nods, his jaw clenching as he pushes to his feet. The cases involving children are always the most difficult. Brown eyes followed her tall subordinate as he left the room, watching as the door closes behind him.

Olivia rests her elbows on the desk, rubbing her temples with her forefingers. Days like today make her feel she is running in circles, putting out one fire after another. It is absolutely exhausting juggling between the paperwork that comes with running the unit and her role as an advocate for the victims.

Rubbing her face wearily, Olivia feels a buzz at her hip and pulls out her cell phone. She smiles when a picture of Amanda snuggling Frannie pops up on her screen.

 _ **Can you talk?**_

Brown eyes dart to her office window, studying the activity in the squad room, flashing briefly to the clock. It is close enough to lunch, and while she normally works through lunch, eating a salad alone in her office, right now she needs to hear a friendly voice.

Olivia pushes back from her desk, quickly crossing the room and locking the door. She punches the key and the phone dials a number she knows by heart.

"Hey Liv," Amanda's is uncharacteristically cheerful. "How are you doing?" In the background Olivia can hear a series of high-pitched yips and barks, an unwitting smile crossing her features, envisioning a tiny Frannie attacking her girlfriend's socked feet.

"Oh, you know, busy," Olivia taps the tip of her pen on the edge of her desk, capturing her lower lip between her teeth. "Met with the chief and IAB, working on finalizing the paperwork for the Fowler case."

"IAB give you a hard time?" Amanda's outrage was almost as cute as the snuffling sound around the phone's microphone. She can almost envision Amanda sprawled out on the bed, playing with the hyperactive puppy.

"No more than usual," Olivia soothes, running a hand through her thick, dark locks. "Tucker has actually mellowed out in his old age. You'll have to give a statement later, but it's pretty open and shut."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Amanda snorts. "Tucker's had a hard-on for me since I came up here."

"Well, Tucker can keep it in his pants," Olivia smirks, drumming her fingertips on the large desktop calendar that's cluttered with a list of names, appointments, reminders, and memos. "Yours are spoken for."

"Oooh, is that so?" Amanda's southern drawl never fails to arouse, goosebumps rising up on Olivia's exposed forearms. "Just how are my pants spoken for, Olivia?"

The thoughts running through her head right now are wildly inappropriate, doubly so because of the unit she commands. She swallows thickly, forcing down a libido that always seems to be in overdrive around a certain blonde detective.

"Table that, and we'll discuss it later this evening." Out of the corner of her eye she sees the boys returning from the hospital, and is grateful for the reprieve.

"Well then, I guess I'll look forward to a _stimulating_ conversation," Amanda drawls, and Olivia groans internally. She knows Amanda does this on purpose, intentionally tries to rile her up, and yet she's powerless to stop herself.

"I love you, Liv," Amanda's tone is almost wistful.

With a quick glance to the locked door, Olivia leans back in her chair. "I love you too sweetie."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Well, happy Sunday. I only got one response to my author's notes from last time, which I guess means you all don't care about more frequent updates or you don't speak English, in which case your reading of this story is really impressive. So I'll pose the question again - more frequent updates (biweekly) and a little bigger gap between this story and the next one, or once weekly updates and a shorter gap.**

 **This chapter is brought to you courtesy of the funnel cake hamburger I ate last night at the fair.**

* * *

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 6**

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

It is nine o'clock before an exhausted Olivia Benson makes it back to Amanda's apartment.

The abuse case from that afternoon has become more and more convoluted, and so far they have turned up empty-handed. The child was either too scared or too afraid to discuss what happened, even after Olivia had spoken with her. The babysitter appeared clean, the parents genuinely traumatized by what their child had endured. Tomorrow they'd start interviewing teachers, neighbors, and anyone else the girl may have come into contact with.

For now, Olivia is content to go home to her girlfriend and spend some quality alone time with her. Home being a relative term, given that most of the time they alternate between their apartments, but given Amanda's injuries, she realizes they may be stationary for the next bit. Olivia makes a mental note to swing by her place and grab a few more outfits for the office and for lounging around.

She uses her key to enter Amanda's apartment, fully expecting to be assailed by a frantic ball of fur, surprised when that's not the case.

It isn't easy to catch Olivia off guard. She is a master of detachment — a skill honed over a lifetime of dealing with an alcoholic mother and some of the worst dregs society has to offer. Amanda likes to joke that Olivia's poker face is the only one the blonde truly fears.

But this time – _this time_ – Amanda has truly stunned her.

The lighting is turned down low, sandalwood-scented candles spread throughout the apartment. Soft jazz music is playing in the background and the dinner table is set for two, bottle of wine set between the placemats.

And standing there, not ten feet in front of her, is Amanda, wearing a thigh length blue silk robe that makes her eyes absolutely pop.

 _Well hello there..._

"What's all this?" Olivia tries to remember if any of the men she's dated ever did something this romantic for no apparent reason. She quickly surmises the thought is almost laughable.

"My way of helping you unwind after a long day, and a way to say thank you for Frannie again." Amanda smiles bashfully, taking Olivia's laptop bag off her shoulder and setting it down by the doorway. She plants a short but sweet kiss on Olivia's cheek, holding out her favorite robe, a short, dark red silk gown that Olivia recognizes as Amanda's favorite ensemble as well.

"You already thanked me for Frannie." Heat rose to her face at the memory. Amanda had been quite effusive in her thanks, in fact. "Is all this for me? How'd you know when I was coming home?"

Amanda's laughter was a sweet melody to Olivia's ears. "Yes it's all for you, you goof. And I'm a damn good detective," sapphire eyes twinkled with delight at having gotten one over on her lover. "Now scoot," swatting Olivia lightly on the behind. "Change. Then we'll eat because I know that you haven't had anything with that case you were working, and then we'll go from there."

Olivia nods, only half-listening as her eyes scan the ground. "Where's Frannie?"

"I got her settled into her crate only a little while ago," Amanda pushes Olivia in the general direction of the room, and Olivia finally obliges, slinking her way into Amanda's small-ish master bedroom. There are a couple of candles lit in here, as well, and Olivia strips, debating for only a moment before removing her bra and panties. She has a pretty good idea where this evening is going to end up, and while she's certain she's getting laid, she fully intends on thanking Amanda thoroughly for her thoughtfulness.

She groans at the feel of the silk against her skin, tying the sash in front of her when something Amanda said pops back into the forefront of her mind.

"Honey?" Padding back into the living room, Olivia crosses her arms over chest, pinning Amanda with a glare. "How _did_ you know about the case? And _how_ exactly did you manage to tire out a six-month-old puppy?"

Amanda, nonplussed, was plating some absolutely delicious-smelling Thai food. "Oh, Carisi called me to check up on me and mentioned something about a case. We chatted about it for a little bit. As for your second question, I took Frannie Mae for a walk this afternoon when I started getting stir-crazy."

She is going to kill Carisi.

"Amanda," Olivia's tone is calm, but firm. She takes the glass of wine Amanda has just poured, taking a long sip and then reaching out to still the younger woman's hand. "Mandatory leave is just that — mandatory."

"I'm aware of that," Amanda tenses, a flash of fire in her eyes that reminds Olivia of just how tenuous the boundaries are between boss and subordinate, as opposed to lovers. Then just as quickly that fire dies. "We didn't get into specifics, Liv, I swear. We talked for three minutes, tops. All he said was that we caught a tough child abuse case with an eight-year-old girl. That was it." A pause, then those same blue eyes level on Olivia's own. "I wish you'd trust me."

A sickening knot forms in her stomach. "You're right," Olivia sank into one of the dining room chairs. "I was wrong to be suspicious. I'm so sorry. Can you forgive me?" Almost afraid to look in Amanda's eyes.

A gentle hand reaches out and takes hold of her chin, grasping gently, drawing it upwards.

"It's okay," Amanda's lips brush against her forehead. "This is new for both of us. We'll figure it out — together."

Olivia nods, resting her head against Amanda's chest, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. They remain like that for a moment before Amanda draws back, pressing another kiss to Olivia's forehead. "We better eat or this will all get cold."

Eager to lighten the mood, Olivia takes another sip of the wine and looks at Amanda amusedly. "Did you cook all of this?" Eyes skimming over what appears to be pad thai with chicken, shrimp, and tofu, dumplings with a soy-based sauce, and a thai salad with ginger dressing.

"Yes," came the droll reply, cerulean eyes rolling to the ceiling. "I cooked all of this with my one pan and spatula." A beat. "In my kitchen."

Both women laugh, knowing that Olivia is by far the chef in the relationship — the one time Amanda attempted to cook some eggs for the brunette she ended up triggering every smoke alarm on the floor.

"It's from that place up the street," Amanda sits down next to Liv, both women chewing in silence for a bit.

"It's delicious," Olivia remarks between mouthfuls, inhaling the salad like it was going to grow legs and walk away. She'd gotten preoccupied once the guys got back and had eaten nothing but a handful of nuts around the lunch hour. "So how was Frannie today?"

Amanda visibly brightens. "She was great. Housebreaking seems to be going great, we took a couple of short walks and one longer one to get her used to the leash, and we started on some simple commands." Amanda pauses, chewing a mouthful of noodles. "I was thinking of reaching out to the Two-Four about training and some more advanced commands."

The Two-Four houses the NYPD's canine unit. Olivia smiles at this and at the blonde's enthusiasm over Frannie's care.

Olivia bites into one of the dumplings. "How is your head doing?"

Amanda tilts her head to the side thoughtfully. "It's better. I'm sore more than anything else but I can walk just fine. I haven't tried jogging yet — the doctor said to give that at least a week. Words are still a little fuzzy." She glances over at Olivia. "Don't worry, I'm following doctor's orders."

Olivia sets her fork down, reaching over and placing a hand on Amanda's left arm. "Amanda, I trust you." More than she's ever trusted anyone – even Elliott. "You're a grown woman. You can make these decisions for yourself."

Amanda swallows, placing a smaller hand gingerly atop of Olivia's own. "Liv, I want you to know that regardless of our dynamics outside the precinct, when you give me an order as my lieutenant I will obey it." The corner of her mouth quirks upwards. "Or at least as much as I am able to."

"And I'll try to leave the lieutenant at the precinct," she grins wryly, coffee-colored eyes flashing. "As much as I'm able to."

Both woman laugh, any residual tension dissipating as the continue to finish their meals, talking about everything and nothing, teasing and laughing and making short work of the Thai fare. When Amanda pulls out a piece of cheesecake for dessert, Olivia's eyes light up. The tenor of the conversation shifts to something a little more seductive, each woman taking turns feeding the other from a single fork.

Finally Olivia skips the dessert, instead pressing her lips against that perfect pink-lipped mouth of Amanda's, kissing her hungrily, as if she'd eaten nothing at all.

Drawing the shorter blonde to her feet, Olivia begins backing her towards the bedroom, murmuring between kisses. "Thank you." Kiss. "For making this day." Kiss. "One to remember."

Bringing their foreheads to gently touch, Olivia's darkened gaze meets Amanda's own. For a moment the brunette imagines she can see to the bottom of the ocean in those fathomless depths.

"I love you, Amanda Rollins." Olivia can count on one hand the number of people she'd spoken those three words to, but somehow, of those few people Amanda not only made the list but tops it.

Olivia still can't figure out how it happened. It just _is_.

Amanda takes her cheeks in her hands, kissing Olivia's forehead gently. The brunette's eyes flutter closed for a brief moment, basking in the glow of _this_ – this connection — this bond they've somehow manage to form over the years.

Their eyes meet.

"Show me," Amanda's whisper is barely audible, but it echoes like a gunshot in the otherwise silent bedroom. Olivia's head dips down, capturing Amanda's lips in a tender display of emotion, trying to convey what words cannot.

Amanda moans softly, parting her mouth, and Olivia gladly takes advantage of the invitation, her tongue slipping between parted lips, gliding over teeth and lapping over palate, circling the blonde's own.

Amanda inhales sharply, fingers tightening on Olivia's robe, her nails digging lightly into her back. Her tongue dances with the brunette's, circling, tasting, teasing.

Olivia revels in this, the lingering sweetness on Amanda's lips, the scent of vanilla and strawberries on her hair, the velvety smoothness of her skin. She tugs lightly on the sash of Amanda's robe, moaning softly at the feel of the naked skin beneath her fingertips.

Goosebumps rise on Amanda's skin, her nipples tightening as fingertips glide lightly along her back, pushing the robe from her shoulders. The fabric pools around her feet, and the blonde nudges it away with her foot. Reluctantly she breaks the kiss, her forehead brushing against Olivia's cheek, breathing heavily into her ear.

"I want to feel you," she whispers seductively, and Olivia groans when those talented fingers slide her robe from her shoulders. Olivia's nudges Amanda towards the bed, following the blonde, eyes feasting on the miles of satiny skin just begging to be caressed.

That first touch of skin on skin is sheer heaven.

Olivia lowers her body on top of Amanda's, her thigh slipping between Amanda's legs, feeling the younger woman's arousal coat her skin. She captures the blonde's mouth in a searing kiss, grinding her hips into Amanda's, feeling a flood of moisture between her legs when Amanda's thigh surged up against her mound.

She trails kisses across the Amanda's jaw, nibbling her way to an enticing earlobe, capturing the delicate flesh between her teeth.

"Oh god, Liv!" Amanda arches into her touch, her head tilting back, nails digging into Olivia's back. Olivia smiles, suckling that earlobe, remembering the day she'd first discovered that particular erogenous zone. In the nearly five years since Amanda had first propositioned her, she'd like to think she's found every spot that drives the younger woman wild.

She takes her time with this particular spot, her tongue tracing along the arch of Amanda's ear, nibbling back down to her earlobe and tonguing the pale flesh. Olivia rocks into the younger woman's hips, refusing to match Amanda's speed, determined to take her time.

"Liv, please." Those gorgeous blue eyes open, hooded, pleading. Olivia smiles, tracing a fingertip down a trembling sternum, slipping into need drenched folds, drawn to the moist heat like a moth to a flame.

"Let me love you," Olivia whispers, sliding two fingers into Amanda's core, curling, finding that one spot she knows will drive the blonde wild.

"Fuck!" Amanda cries out as Olivia moves onto her neck, latching onto her pulse point with renewed focus, hooking her fingers as she thrusts into the younger woman, drawing her fingers nearly completely out before sinking them even deeper than before. Amanda's leg wraps around her waist, her hips bucking into Olivia's with increasingly erratic rhythm.

Olivia eases a third finger inside, bringing her thumb to circle around the blonde's clit, circling the engorged nub before flicking it rapidly with her thumb.

"Liv!" Amanda clenches tightly around Olivia's fingers, her body spasming with her release, nails digging delectably into the brunette's skin. Olivia pulls her lips back with a pop, riding out the waves of Amanda's release, her touch gentling and eventually stilling as her orgasm comes to an end, peppering kisses along Amanda's jawline, cheek, lips, enjoying the feel of being inside her girlfriend.

Amanda lay there, a contented smile on her face, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Olivia resting her head against the crook of her shoulder. She wasn't sure how long they had laid there when Amanda glances towards her, frowning.

"Did you leave a hickey on me?"

Olivia laughs, gently easing her fingers from Amanda's core, bringing them to her mouth and wrapping her lips around them, sucking. All these years later Amanda is still one of the greatest things she's ever tasted.

"Maybe." She did, and Olivia's more than a little proud of that fact, pressing a kiss to the younger woman's sternum, hearing the slight hitch of breath. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Amanda's nipples tightening once more.

She's got to give this to Amanda – the woman has stamina.

Amanda's head tips back in laughter. "Oh great. You better be glad I am benched these next two weeks. The boys would have a field day with this."

"Guess that's so," trailing a tongue around one nipple, Olivia captures it, sucking on it hard before releasing it with a pop. She then moves to the other nipple, repeating the action while kneading the other breast.

"You better... ah..." Amanda shifts, her fingers tracing through long, dark locks, knees falling apart to allow Olivia to settle between them. "Hope they don't come to... ah... check up on me." Her occasional lapses in thought are punctuated by Olivia's sucking on her nipple, kissing along the flat of her sternum and rotating back to the other side, always kneading the unattended breast.

"Guess you'll have to spill the beans and tell them about a mysterious brunette you picked up at a bar."

"Oh god... Liv..." Amanda's hands are in her hair, her nails massaging her scalp as Olivia's lips begin to trail down her stomach. "And what do I do... when they ask for this… brunette's name?" It's becoming increasingly difficult for Amanda to concentrate as Olivia's lips start to move lower.

"You'll improvise," Olivia smirks playfully, planting small, tender kisses along the flat plane of the blonde's abdomen, dipping a tongue playfully into her navel as she nears her goal, the scent of inevitable arousal a potent aphrodisiac. "You're good at that." Kissing along the curve of a hip, beginning to wonder if she even cares. Let NYPD find out. What does it matter anymore?

Amanda's moans are louder, speech unintelligible now as Olivia reaches her true goal, trailing a finger through the neatly trimmed curls. Pressing a kiss along Amanda's left inner thigh, Olivia whispers softly, "I love you."

Dipping her head, Olivia passes the flat of her tongue against Amanda lower lips, dragging it through her folds. There's a slight pain as Amanda's grip on her hair tightens, but Olivia refuses to speed up, trailing her tongue back down Amanda's length, dipping it into her core, drinking deeply of her younger lover.

Amanda's cries of pleasure are louder now; one of her hands slips from Olivia's hair to make a fist against her mouth in an attempt to at least partially muffle the sounds from her neighbors, her hips thrusting haphazardly against the brunette. Olivia's hands move to steady Amanda's hips, holding her still as she languidly licks up her slit once more, this time circling the small bud before latching onto it and lashing it with her tongue.

The fall is almost immediate.

Amanda's second orgasm is even more powerful than the first, and in that mangled mess of cries Olivia thinks she hears her name and an 'I love you' in there somewhere. She continues to lathe that nub until the tremors stop, Amanda collapsing, repleted.

Olivia presses a soft kiss against Amanda's folds, scooting up and shifting onto her side, pulling the blonde against her and pressing a soft kiss to her temple. Amanda's arm drapes over her stomach, snuggling into Olivia's side. No words are needed.

Her private life has always been private. From the very beginning Olivia made sure of that.

But with the way she feels about this woman, Olivia is beginning to wonder if she even cares anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's notes: All good smut must come to an end ... at least until the next good smut is written. ;) The honeymoon can't last forever, ladies. Eventually Olivia and Amanda were going to have to get busy doing something, because you know Amanda can't stay out of trouble and there's only so much wine a person can drink without wanting/needing to shoot something...er...yeah.**

 **Buckle your belts ladies, because you're on my rollercoaster now. Take that Shonda!**

* * *

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 7**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

Cobalt eyes pop open.

Amanda Rollins blinks, disoriented, frowning because she can't understand why she woke up.

It's not light outside; Olivia is still asleep, her chest rising and falling in a deep cadence. She is still nestled up against Olivia's side, head pillowed against her naked breast. Past her Amanda can see the bright green of the digital clock face reading 3:22 a.m.

Then it sounds again, and Amanda pushes herself upright. "Liv, someone's at the gate trying to buzz in."

Those gorgeous brown eyes pop open almost immediately, the brunette rolling over and turning the lamp on, fumbling for her reading glasses. "What time is it?"

"Middle of the night." Amanda is already on her feet, grabbing her longer robe from the closet. Amanda glances quickly over her shoulder to her girlfriend, who is already grabbing a pair of light grey yoga pants and a black tank top from a drawer Amanda had cleared out specifically for her.

Amanda stumbles towards her intercom, which is buzzing continuously, grateful she doesn't trip over her feet. Frannie is barking now, and Amanda shoots a desperate look towards Olivia, who without hesitation moves towards the puppy's crate.

"What is it?" She is more than a little aggravated now as she slaps the 'speak' button, resting her forehead against the wall as she waits for the late night visitor to speak.

"I- Is this Mandy?" The accent is southern, hesitant, tentative, young-sounding and most definitely female.

Amanda shoots a questioning look over her shoulder to Olivia, who has Frannie tucked underneath her arm, bouncing lightly on the balls of her bare feet.

"Who is this?" Amanda's mind is racing a mile a minute now. No one in New York calls her Mandy aside from her sister, who is still in prison, and this is definitely not Kim's voice.

"W- we haven't met." The voice is tinny, as if it's almost afraid of Amanda's response. "I'm your cousin, and I really need your help."

The blood drains from Amanda's face. She hits the intercom button again.

"I don't have a cousin," she snarls, wondering if this is a cruel joke and who would want to do something like that to her. She's getting ready to turn, to call Olivia back to bed, when the stranger's next words stop her cold.

"Your sister is Kim! Your mom's name is Beth. She has a brother who is named Charlie," the voice is practically sobbing now. "He's my stepfather and I need your help, please don't turn me down."

Olivia is at her side now, soft brown eyes questioning, gently placing a hand against the small of her back. Amanda couldn't move, couldn't speak, and most definitely couldn't look at Olivia.

 _A set of hands on her thighs, roughly pushing them apart._

"What do you want to do honey?" Olivia's voice is low, controlled, rubbing Amanda's back softly in an attempt to ground her.

Amanda lifts an empty gaze towards Olivia, staring at her as if she's got an extra head, lost in a past she's tried so very hard to forget.

 _A hand slapping her face when she started to cry._

"Buzz her in," Amanda grinds out between clenched teeth, beelining towards the bathroom. She barely makes it to the toilet before she empties her stomach contents into the porcelain bowl. Out of the corner of her ear she can hear Olivia's smooth voice speaking into the intercom, the turning of a door lock and the frantic scrabble of nails on laminate, Frannie obviously thinking this means it's time to wake up.

Amanda continues to retch even though there's nothing left in her stomach, Olivia kneeling down beside her and softly rubbing her back while she tries to get control of her body. This isn't like her, Amanda is usually able to compartmentalize better than this.

"It's okay, honey," Olivia is using that same soothing tone on her, and Amanda relaxes into the touch, even though everything in her wants to pull away, to isolate herself until she regains her composure. She absolutely hates feeling like this, feeling weak.

Wiping a hand across her mouth, Amanda looks over to the brunette, whose eyes are filled with a deep concern. The apartment door opens, then closes, locks clicking into place. Pursing her lips into a fine line, Amanda pushes to her feet abruptly, Olivia following suit, hand reaching out to her elbow to steady the blonde. "Sweetheart why don't you take a moment?"

"I need to get out there," she tries to insist, but she is a little unsteady, pressing a hand against the brunette's chest to stabilize herself.

"Why don't you go get some clothes on while I check on our guest, and then come out when you are ready?"

Blue eyes flash with gratitude, and once Olivia departs, Amanda faces the sink, gripping the sides of the white porcelain so tightly her knuckles blanch. She studies her reflection, the mussed hair and the bruising along the side of her neck the only reminders that just mere hours earlier she and Olivia had been making love.

Amanda closes her eyes, swallowing, wishing she could turn back the clock. She sighs, grabbing her toothbrush and washing the remnants of bile from her mouth. Making her way into the bedroom, she can hear Olivia and their visitor conversing in low tones. She dresses hurriedly, throwing on the first thing she grabs ahold of, a green tank top and pair of black running shorts. Running her hands through her hair, Amanda pads back into the living room, ignoring Frannie as she bounds across the floor at this newest addition to their company.

The girl is small, probably no older than fourteen, with wavy brown hair that falls to the middle of her back, dressed in jeans and a baby blue t-shirt that has the name of some band Amanda's never heard of. Her black converse sneakers are scuffed and an olive green backpack is hanging over her shoulder.

"Mandy?" Her eyes are startlingly green, and Amanda nods weakly before gesturing to the couch.

"And you are?" Attempting to take control of the situation, determined that she will not fall apart like before.

"Stephanie," the teenager shifts the backpack to her chest, clutching it. "Stephanie Monroe." The girl hesitates. "My mom married your uncle three years ago. Me and my little sister — he's our stepfather."

"Your... little... sister," Willing herself not to think of Kim, Amanda refuses to look at Olivia, who's observing the exchange silently.

Stephanie nods, pulling out her phone and tapping the black screen. A picture appears of a young girl with little brown pigtails, brown eyes and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

"Her name is Emily," Stephanie's voice is thick with emotion. "She's eight. And he's – Charlie – he's been hurting her."

Amanda carefully schools her neutral expression, but out of the corner of her eye she can see Olivia's shock. The blonde carefully eases herself onto the sofa next to her cousin, studying the picture on the smartphone.

"How did you find me?" It may have not been the most important question, but it was the first one she wanted answers to.

Stephanie dips her head. "Aunt Beth told me that you were a police officer in New York City and that you work on," her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, "sex crimes." Her head lifts, eyes bright with determination. "Once I knew what was happening with my sister I told her I wanted to write to you about becoming a police officer like you were."

"Stephanie, do your parents know you came all the way up here?" Olivia's voice is gentle, but firm, for the first time moving around the couch and sitting next to Amanda.

"My mom thinks I'm staying the weekend with a friend," the teenager says sheepishly. "And my dad died when I was six."

 _Great, now there is a runaway situation to contend with._ "How did you get up here?" Amanda asks, rubbing her temples. Her head is starting to throb again, and she wonders if it's her concussion rearing its ugly head or if it's the nightmare she is walking into. Olivia's eyes dart over with concern.

"I took the bus," Stephanie says, the tip of her shoe nudging Frannie, who had been tugging on the sneaker's laces. "Look, I know what you're thinking. But I tried telling anyone who would listen and no one would believe me. The police think I'm making it up, my mom thinks I'm acting out for attention..." her voice trails off, thick with emotion. Those emerald eyes level on Amanda's own, bright with tears. "You're my last hope. I need to stop him."

The silence is deafening.

Olivia seems to be waiting for Amanda to say something, only Amanda has no idea what to say. She just woke up into her worst nightmare – bare, exposed, and so incredibly vulnerable. To make matters worse, Stephanie is looking up at her like she's some sort of savior.

This is so much worse, worse than Patton ever was.

"Nothing can be decided or done at," Olivia's eyes flash over to the clock, "Three fifty-four in the morning. Amanda, why don't you go lay down while I make up the couch for our guest?"

For once, Amanda does as she's told, returning to her bedroom and crawling under the covers, wishing she could bury herself beneath them for eternity.

It isn't supposed to be like this.

Amanda can hear soft murmurs emanating from the living room, the creak of the hallway closet door open and closed, the soft padding of footsteps as the locks are checked and double checked.

"Come on, let's go see mama," came the soothing lilt as Olivia enters the bedroom, setting Frannie Mae down on the bed. Those footsteps hesitate on the opposite side of the bed, before pulling back the covers and slipping beneath.

Nothing is said, at least not at first, both women listening quietly as the puppy digs out the bed, intermittently turning in circles to get comfortable. Amanda closes her eyes, waiting for the probing questions, waiting for the SVU lieutenant to emerge.

Finally several minutes after Frannie has settled down, Olivia speaks.

"I'm here for you no matter what."

And just like that, her dam breaks.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Oh what a beautiful wonderful day. The weather is damn near perfect where I'm at and I just spent a day lazing away watching a L &O:SVU marathon. And all my favorite authors posted updates today, making for a very entertaining afternoon. So I figure - if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.**

 **I appreciate all the reviews, guys. It makes me do good things like edit and post chapters a day early. And work on sequels with a certain unnamed blonde and brunette.**

* * *

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 8**

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Once, when she was a child, Olivia accidentally destroyed a stack of term papers her mother was grading, knocking a glass of chocolate milk all over the precious documents. Her mother, in turn, beat her with a belt so badly that she couldn't sit for a week. Once, as a teen, her mother caught her in the act of dumping her vodka down the drain and slapped her so hard her ears rang for two days.

When her mother wasn't drunk, she'd been easily tolerable, if neglectful and distant. Left mostly to her own devices, Olivia had mostly raised herself, relying on her mother for only the basic necessities like shelter, food, and clothing — never love, or affection. It was only much, much later that they'd had any real sort of bonding.

Still, she is beginning to think she had it easy.

Amanda has long stopped crying, her mostly silent sobs muffled against Olivia's side. For the past hour or so, they had been laying in silence, neither woman in a mood to sleep. Amanda's fingers trail shapeless patterns against her stomach, stormy eyes staring blindly into the distance. The sky outside is beginning to lighten with the dawning of a new day, a time when she normally would be getting up to prepare for work.

She has no inclination to move, knowing she's needed here more than at the office.

"Kim was only eight or so when it began. All of those things we tell parents to look for, the signs were all there," Amanda's whisper is so low Olivia has to strain to hear it. Her grip tightens around the younger blonde's shoulders, willing herself to listen but afraid of what she will hear.

"I guess I would have been around ten, twelve years old," Amanda's voice trails off, "it wasn't too long after dad left us." A pause. "I caught him coming out of my little sister's room."

 _Christ_ , Olivia's eyelids slam shut, her thoughts immediately going to Kim. The drug use, the lying, the manipulation and the mental issues, Amanda's unending loyalty even when it is to her own detriment — it is all starting to make a twisted sort of sense.

"Mom was lost in her own little world, either going on like nothing had changed or drinking to forget that it had. Kim wouldn't talk to anyone but me about it." Amanda's blue eyes are filled with a tremendous amount of pain. "I went to the teachers, who reported it but that went nowhere." A pause. "Even back then Atlanta PD was a good ole' boys club. They chalked it up to an overactive imagination. Bastard was – _is_ – still really tight with some of the higher-ups in Atlanta."

As much as Olivia wants to take the next flight down to Atlanta and put some holes in this asshole, right now any outward display of emotion is likely to shut the blonde down, so she has to settle for a reassuring squeeze. If Amanda feels it, she gives no notice.

"Mom refused to acknowledge it, and," the blonde's voice quivers, and Olivia's heart rate increases. "I had no choice Liv. She was my little sister, I had no choice." With a slight hitch in her voice, Amanda continues, "so I offered him a trade."

Olivia's eyes close, a lone tear slipping down her cheek. She's listened to hundreds, if not thousands, of survivor's stories. Victims of all ages, young, old, male, female, all races and ethnicities. But right now, her heart literally feels like it's tearing in two. Pressing her lips against Amanda's forehead, she whispers the only thing she can.

"I got you."

The reaction is almost immediate, Amanda burrowing her face into Olivia's shoulder, sobs shaking her smaller body. Olivia's arms tighten, her own breath catching in her throat, tears streaking silently down her face as she buries her nose in the blonde hair.

She's not entirely sure how long they remain like that. The sun is just beginning to rise over the skyline. Amanda is utterly exhausted, spent, when she finally tips her head back, regarding Olivia with bloodshot eyes.

"You must think I'm a..."

Olivia presses a finger against Amanda's lips, the younger woman falling silent.

"I think you're the bravest person I've ever known," Olivia corrects gently, those blue eyes drifting closed, as she presses her lips against the blonde's forehead. "And I was just thinking about how lucky I am to be with you."

Amanda opens her mouth, and when no sound comes out, closes it, then opens it again, "I'm gonna have to go."

" _We're_ going to have to go." Olivia prays Amanda won't fight her on this, will let her do this, _be_ this, for her. The body beside her tenses, the brunette bracing for an argument.

"Liv, the unit..."

"Was run by a sergeant before, can be run by a sergeant now, especially one with a hell of a lot more juice than I had," Olivia pauses for a moment, then continues, "I have enough personal time for four precincts _and_ I'm not too bad with a gun and shovel."

Amanda snorts, rolling her eyes, unable to stop from smiling in spite of herself. "You don't need a shovel to hide a body."

There it is, that beautiful smile that she fell in love with. "True, Coca Cola is stationed in Atlanta, right? We can just dump..."

Now it is her turn to be shushed, Amanda's expression going serious. "What are you going to tell the guys?"

"Let me worry about that, okay?" She kisses Amanda's fingertip, hugging the blonde tightly. "Please, Amanda. Let me do this for you." Knowing that she cannot take this choice away from her. They've both lived through far too much of that already.

Olivia waits, hoping, praying.

Amanda buries her face into Olivia's chest. After a minute, she nods. Olivia presses a kiss against the crown of her head, waiting until Amanda pulls away before making any moves. The blonde sniffs conspicuously, swiping quickly underneath her eyes.

"You better get going," Amanda says reluctantly, "if we're going to get out of here."

Olivia nods, mentally cataloging the list of things she is going to need to pack, people she would need to talk to. "Give me a few hours," amber eyes level on the younger woman in concern. "I'll be back as quickly as I can."

* * *

After stopping at her apartment and packing her suitcase, Olivia finds herself in front of her boss, making what seems like an impossible request.

"You need to _what_?" Chief Mike Dodds, senior, looks at Olivia like she's grown a second head.

It was always going to be a tough sell, but Olivia remains calm, focused.

"I need to take some of my personal time, effective immediately." She's aware of the utter irony that she didn't even take a full day of personal time after her own mother's funeral. "There's been a family emergency."

It's true, in it's own way. Aside from Simon, Amanda is the closest thing she has to family. But the chief doesn't need to know that.

Her superior leans back in his chair, lower lip tucked between his teeth, drumming his pen against the cherry wood desk, tipping his large executive chair back in careful contemplation.

"I thought you only had a half-brother," he says cautiously, intelligent eyes swinging to his subordinate, fishing for details.

So much for him not knowing.

"And a sister-in-law, niece, and nephew," Olivia counters smoothly, after a moment, adding, "and a de-facto ex-foster son." It is still painful thinking about Calvin.

"And who exactly is going to run the unit and manage the caseload?" He still can't believe she's even making this request. Olivia breathes an internal sigh of relief. Finally a question she has a good answer for.

"I think your son is more than adequately prepared and capable of running the unit in my absence, my team is more than capable of handling our case load right now and I'll be available by cell if I'm needed." It is true, all of it, even the part about her sergeant's ability to fill in for her. Even though the younger Dodds is leaving for the joint terrorism task force soon, he is still a valuable asset to her team. "It will give him some valuable leadership experience."

"Hmmm," nodding his head, the chief raises his eyebrows, rocking back and forth in his chair, pondering. "How much time do you need?"

"No more than two weeks, possibly only a week," Olivia knows there is a COMSTAT panel in three weeks, so she'd be cutting it close, but she'll have her laptop to work on.

An awkward silence settles in the room, Olivia pressing her lips together as she awaits her verdict.

"You better have a stellar COMSTAT report," Dodds fixes her with a hard stare. Olivia releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Are we clear, Lieutenant?"

"Crystal, sir," Olivia pushes to her feet, grateful the hardest part is over. "Thank you, sir."

Dodds nods, the corner of his mouth quirks upward as he tips his head towards the door. "Go on, get out of here." Olivia's about to leave when a question stops her in her tracks. "Oh, by the way, how's that detective of yours, Rollins?"

It's years of careful practice that allow her to keep a straight face.

"She sustained a concussion in her altercation with the perp, but the hospital cleared her to return to active duty in two weeks." Willing herself to stay calm, relaxed.

Dodds purses his lips together, nodding as if listening with half an ear. "Good, good. I take it you are going to give my son the good news?" At Olivia's nod, he continues, "safe travels, Lieutenant."

Olivia steps outside, letting the door swing shut behind her, nodding briefly to a smiling receptionist as she makes her way to the women's restroom. Only when she's alone, and only then, does she allow herself to release a shaky breath, walking over to the sink and turning the cold water on. She reaches under the steady stream, cupping her hands below it and splashing some of the cool liquid onto her face.

This is so much harder than she expected it to be.

She grabs a paper towel and dries her face, balling it up loosely and throwing it in the trash. Olivia stares at her reflection in the mirror, hands gripping the sides of the porcelain bowl, knuckles turning white in an attempt to keep from trembling.

 _C'mon Olivia, you can do this. This isn't about you. It's about Amanda._

Olivia takes a few deep breaths, centering herself. So far she'd managed to get through this with some quick thinking and without lying. Now to do the same with her team.

A chorus of hellos greet her when she steps foot off the elevator, her eyes scanning the bustling room out of habit, ensuring everyone is in their place. Amanda's desk, of course, is empty, file folders stacked tall and littered with post it notes.

"Mornin' Liv, how's the patient?" Fin's smile is broad, tipping back in his chair as he holds a pen between his hands. He is dressed in his customary black, dark eyes crinkled at the corners.

"On mandatory leave for the next two weeks, so you and Carisi can split the stack of DD5s and get to work."

"Hey you think she'd be up for some visitors?" Carisi asks, shifting in his chair as he stretches his long legs out. He has on a neatly pressed white shirt, tailored grey pants and a dark blue tie that his hands keep playing with. His sandy blonde hair is combed neatly to the side, and fortunately he is clean shaven. The mustache he had when he first joined her unit was seriously disturbing. "My grandmother makes this soup with..."

"I don't think she'll be up for visitors for awhile, Carisi," Olivia cuts him off, lacking the patience and the time to listen to the junior detective ramble. "If you need to talk to her call her, but until she's cleared you and Fin will need to pick up the slack."

"Copy that, Lieutenant." Carisi gives her a mock salute, returning his focus to his own substantial pile of paperwork. Olivia grinds her teeth — on any other day she would ignore his boyish enthusiasm and tendency to fly by the seat of his pants but this is not that day.

Fin is more subdued, contemplative, his dark eyes follow Olivia as she stops by the junior Dodds' desk.

"Mike, can I see you in my office?" She keeps her tone amiable, not wanting the other team members to know something was amiss. The tall, chestnut-haired sergeant pushes back from his desk and follows her into her office.

As soon as Olivia closes the door, she turns to face him, meeting his inquisitive gaze with one of her own. "Mike I am going to ask that you keep this between us. I've had a family emergency arise that requires my attention and I am taking some personal time to attend to it. I'm placing you in charge of the unit."

Mike's inquisitive expression quickly shifts to one of concern. "Of course, when will you need me?"

"I'm on leave for the next two weeks, effective immediately." He startles slightly when Olivia mentions the length of time, but quickly regains his composure. Dressed in a white oxford shirt, blue dress slacks and a red tie, the younger Dodds is a spitting image of the older, minus a few grey hairs and wrinkles. "I'll have my laptop and I want a daily report on any open cases." As she's talking, Olivia is gathering everything she thinks she'll need into her laptop bag. Laptop. Charger. Extra clips for her sidearm. Her credentials. "You'll be able to reach me on my phone. Can you do this?" Her brown eyes lift, meeting her sergeant's.

"Sure, Lieutenant," Mike's voice is wary, eyebrows furrowing as he watches his supervisor stuff her laptop bag. "May I ask what happened?"

"You may ask," Olivia prepared for this question. "But right now I need you to do this for me, no questions asked."

There is silence as Olivia slings her bag over her shoulder, now fully focusing her attention on the sergeant standing across from her, bewildered.

"Copy that, Lieutenant," he nods, an understanding passes between them. Whatever the business is, its personal, and if Olivia is acting mysteriously it's because discretion is paramount.

Olivia opens the door, heading towards the elevators, drawing more than a few startled expressions as she crosses the room looking every bit like she's going home for the day. She presses the button, the elevator doors opening a short while later, and Olivia steps inside, grateful that it's empty for once.

The doors have almost closed when a dark-toned hand inserts itself between the doors, which begin to reverse. Olivia curses inwardly when Fin steps inside the elevator, pressing the button to close the doors.

"Mind if walk with you?" Fin asks nonchalantly. "Doctor says I need to get more exercise."

She did mind, in fact. But she will never say that to Fin's face.

They ride the elevator down in silence, exiting out towards the parking garage. Unfortunately her spot was further away owing to her late start, but Olivia sets a brisk pace in its direction.

"So how's Amanda really doing?" If her rapid pace bothers him, Fin doesn't show it, settling into an easy stride with Olivia.

"I answered that question in the squad room," Olivia lets the slightest bit of aggravation creep into her tone.

"C'mon, Liv, you and I both know that a close call like that, it's gonna leave scars," Fin pushes, in a way only he can.

She knows better than most. Sealview. Lewis. Olivia is intimately familiar with the scars those close calls can bring.

Olivia sighs, standing next to her car now, popping open the trunk without thinking and tossing her laptop bag on top of her suitcase, only belatedly realizing that Fin could see everything.

"You taking a trip?" Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Fin could almost pass for a rapper. His dark brown eyes are almost black as he gives her a pointed stare.

"I am taking some personal time to deal with a family emergency," she's starting to get angry now because this is not where she is supposed to be, trapped in an interrogation with her subordinate trying to skirt around questions that are a little too close to home. "Now I believe you have some paperwork that's overdue?"

"Look, Amanda is my partner. It's my job to have her back, just like it's my job to have yours," his eyes lock onto hers. "Amanda's like my little sister. I just want to know she's being taken care of."

Olivia frowns, closing the trunk, mulling over her options. Jerking her head to the car, she slips into the driver's seat, resting her elbow on the steering wheel and her hand against her mouth. She stares blankly at the dashboard, unmoving even when Fin slides into the passenger seat.

They sit in silence for a bit, Olivia at a loss for the words to say what she's thinking. Of all the people on the force besides Amanda, Odafin Tutuola knows her the best.

"Liv, I have you guys' backs," he says sincerely. Olivia can almost feel her skin burning from the heat of his stare.

He knows, Olivia realizes. _He knows_.

"It wasn't supposed to happen," Olivia verbalizes finally, her voice cracking as she stumbles over the sentence. There, that is it. Finally.

"We don't always get to choose these things." If Fin is shocked, he gives no notice. "You know that as well as I do."

She doesn't respond, because she honestly doesn't know what to say. There is no rule book on proper etiquette when you're sleeping with your subordinate.

"How long?"

Olivia huffs, her right arm joining her left to drum on the steering wheel, her head dropping between them. "Since Eskes."

Fin lets out a low whistle. "Serious?"

Somehow she knows he's talking about the relationship, not questioning her veracity.

"Very."

Olivia closes her eyes, focusing on the tightness in her chest, finding that it's loosened a tiny bit; instead she's filled with relief that someone – someone _– knows_.

"No one will hear about anything from me," Fin says sincerely. "Family business, huh? I still have some friends in Atlanta PD. Want me to call them?"

Olivia shakes her head, because she has no idea what Amanda wants to do, or if Amanda even has a plan. Knowing Amanda, it is unlikely.

"'Kay, I'll run interference for you here," Fin touches her arm, and for the first time Olivia lifts her head, meeting his gaze and appreciating what a good friend she has in Odafin Tutuola. "You just take care of my partner. Keep her out of trouble."

Olivia nods weakly, hoping that she's strong enough to do just that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: This is just a short one. Thanks for all the reviews. This chapter is brought to you courtesy of delicious Olivia and Amanda Subtext. Did anyone else want to know what earned Rollins her high school nickname? o.O ... the images... the images... Just saying...**

* * *

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 9**

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

She doesn't bother to bring her suitcase up to the apartment, because it's a given that they'll be taking her car.

Olivia takes the steps to jar herself awake, even though the two cups of coffee she consumed seems to have jump-started the process. Mentally, she's compiling a list of contacts they need to make and things they need to do when they arrive in Atlanta, and by the time she lets herself in she's already got a rough plan on how they are going to nail this son of a bitch.

The only thing she can't decide is if she's going to castrate the bastard before or after she uses the above said nailgun on his kneecaps.

Frannie is already barreling towards her, having heard the door open, and Olivia drops to a knee, holding the dog's head between her hands and letting Frannie shower her with affection for several seconds. Planting a kiss on the Pitt Bull's head, Olivia makes a mental note to remind Amanda to google pet-friendly hotels in Atlanta because they really can't afford to leave Frannie behind this quickly after getting her.

Besides, the puppy's presence should be comforting to Amanda and for that reason alone they _will_ be taking her.

Stephanie is sitting on the couch, her ear buds blaring some pop song Olivia's never heard of. The teenager appears sullen, stringy brown hair forming a curtain that almost conceals her sour mood. She's wearing last night's clothes, converse sneakers digging forcefully into the carpet. Her backpack is tucked against her side.

Olivia moves towards the teenager, pausing by her side, and in the matter of seconds Stephanie tugs one earbud out of her ear. "Yes?"

"Frannie is going to need to go for a walk before we go." It is not lost on Olivia the way Stephanie and Frannie took to each other. "Would you like to do the honors?"

Almost immediately Stephanie's eyes light up, the teen pushing to her feet with surprising speed. "Absolutely," she exclaims, running towards the door. "Come on Frannie."

"No earbuds while walking Frannie," Olivia calls out to the teenager, watching her as she clips the bright red leash onto Frannie's collar. "You need to hear what's going on around you. And follow all the signs."

Stephanie nods, and if her enthusiasm waned Olivia can't see it. Brown eyes follow the girl out the door, watching as it closes behind her, before turning her focus to the bedroom.

Amanda's apartment has always been small, but it feels almost claustrophobic as Olivia steps into the bedroom, seeing clothes scattered across the bed, a half-packed suitcase, and Amanda standing there worrying her lower lip. The blonde's hair is pulled up in a ponytail and she's got a grey NYPD t-shirt on over a pair of faded, ripped denim jeans.

Olivia rests her hands on Amanda's shoulders, dropping her chin on top of her right one and kissing the blonde gently on the cheek. Amanda reaches up absently with her right hand resting on Olivia's own.

"I can't decide what to bring," Amanda is talking to herself as much as Olivia, worried blue eyes scanning the scattered wardrobe.

"Whatever you decide," Olivia soothes, thumbs brushing across her tense shoulders, "It'll be all right."

Amanda nods, pursing her lips together and beginning to fold items from different stacks, placing them into the suitcase. "I already got a small bag packed for Frannie," she says as Olivia moves to sit next to the navy blue piece of luggage. The blonde is still fastidiously avoiding eye contact. Olivia purses her lips together, arching her head to the side. She supposed that Amanda could be worrying about any number of things – her uncle, the possibility of coming into contact with her mother, her old team.

Or it could be something else entirely different.

As much as the detective in her wanted to know what was going on – it was important Amanda take the lead in this. Olivia'd speak up if she saw her getting too careless, but Amanda had just been reminded of one of the worst times in her life. She could afford to exercise a little patience. So Olivia nods, "I figured we could deal with the hotel reservations in the car." A pause. "I sent Stephanie out with Frannie for a walk. They both looked like they needed it."

"I made her call her mom and tell her where she was." This is unexpected – Olivia expected that they'd at least discuss the issue. Sensing her shock, Amanda continues. "Nothing else but that. I didn't want to get into details over the phone when we don't have all the answers. I spoke with her briefly and I told her we'd bring Stephanie back."

Well that explains the teenager's dour mood. "When'd you tell her we'd be arriving?" Without traffic, it is at least a thirteen hour drive. With traffic, it'd really be better to break the trip into two parts, especially given that they had no sleep the night before.

"Tomorrow evening at the earliest." Finally, finally those crystal blue eyes rise, meeting Olivia's. "If we leave early enough, we can catch the mother while he's gone and do a little exploration. Maybe we can find something to corroborate her story."

They'd drive it all at once then. Olivia nods. "I borrowed some supplies from Warner's office to test for blood and semen. We should have some physical proof if there's any to be had."

Amanda swallows, her throat painfully dry. "Even if there is, whose to say they'll even believe it?" She puts the pair of jeans into the suitcase and zips it shut. "They didn't before."

"They will." Olivia won't let them ignore Amanda. Not this time. "We're going to make them," Olivia reassures her with a confidence she doesn't quite feel. She doesn't have a plan B yet, though she's working on one. Something involving a rusty spork, perhaps?

"Amanda," she says delicately, taking the blonde's hands into her own. "We might need to go see your old captain." This is what she hates above all else, dredging up these old memories that Amanda has worked so hard to put behind her. But Atlanta's Special Victims Unit will end up involved in some capacity if Charlie has been molesting his stepdaughter.

And her words have the expected effect, as Amanda stiffens, and Olivia purses her lips apologetically. Amanda nods curtly, pulling her hands away slowly, turning back to her side of the bed.

"Might just be easier to shoot Charlie and bury the body," Amanda mutters darkly, reaching into her nightstand and putting her service weapon into its holster. The detective pauses, hesitating before she pulls out her extra clips.

"Amanda..."

"I know, Liv," her eyes are getting suspiciously bright, shoving the clips into her suitcase. "I'm not going to do anything that stupid."

"Amanda," Olivia reaches out to still her girlfriend's hands. The blonde is swallowing around a lump in her throat, causing Olivia's heart to ache all over again. "I know you won't. You didn't even need to tell me that."

Amanda's head lifted, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Olivia lifts Amanda's encased hands to her lips, kissing them. "Honey, we're going to find a way to make this stick. He's going to spend the rest of his life in prison."

Amanda sniffs, a half-strangled sob escaping unbidden. "I don't know. I wasn't able to get justice for Kim." She sniffs again, brushing the back of her forearm across her eyes.

"Amanda," there's a hint of steel in the brunette's voice, "look at me." Olivia waits until the blonde is doing just that before continuing. "You fight every day to get justice for your sister, and for all of those sisters out there who don't have a voice." Olivia swallows, blinking to clear her own vision. "The same way I fight to get justice for my mom."

The blonde nods, pressing her lips together and burying her face in the crown of Olivia's hair. She sniffs, inhaling the smell of her coconut and mango-scented shampoo, pressing a light kiss against the skin.

"Let's gets this show on the road."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Not too many reviews over the last couple of chapters. I hope y'all are still reading/liking it. My motivation to continue on with this series is greatly increased by reviews from my readers. Or is that my ability to write smut - I can never keep track of the two? At any rate this chapter is dedicated to all day Law and Order marathons that I use for research and Mariska's hot-ness. Not necessarily in that order.**

 **Reviews are requested and very much appreciated.**

* * *

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 10**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

Olivia volunteered to drive all the way to Atlanta, but Amanda refused to let the brunette shoulder all the burden. So they agreed that Olivia would drive the first eight hours or so, then they would switch. In the meantime Amanda agrees to try to sleep, though she doubts she'll be able to.

She is wrong, though. She is asleep the second her head hits the headrest, though not well. Amanda's dreams are fitful, the monsters of her nightmares constantly shifting. One moment it's Patton, throwing her hard enough against the headboard of the hotel bed to split the back of her head open, the next minute her uncle, fondling her roughly right before he pushes himself inside of her, before the images shift again. One monster merges into another, an ever-shifting carousel that loops over itself.

So when she wakes up, in a car, her heart practically in her throat, it takes her a moment to orient herself. A familiar hand rests itself briefly on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze that helps her to center herself. She looks over at Olivia, the brunette giving her a reassuring smile while keeping her eyes on the stretch of highway in front of her.

"How long was I out?" Amanda stretches, feeling a pop in her back as her vertebrae align. A quick glance over her shoulder reveals that Stephanie is passed out in the back seat, her head resting against the window, Frannie curled contentedly in her lap.

"A few hours," Olivia murmurs, squeezing her thigh again, this time keeping her hand there. Amanda tugs her hoodie over her shoulders, grateful at least for the additional warmth. "We're in Maryland."

Amanda nods, sitting her seat upright and stretching once again. Olivia's fingertips brush the back of her cheek, moving back down to her leg.

"How did you sleep?" The brunette asks softly, eyes briefly darting to Amanda's before moving to the road.

"About as well as can be expected," Amanda rolls her neck around, trying to work out the lingering tension from her nightmares. "How long has Stephanie been asleep?" She doesn't want to think about her dreams.

"About an hour, and Frannie the same." Olivia smiles softly at this. "For the last hour it's been pretty quiet."

Amanda nods, and leans against the headrest, letting the silence linger. They ride in silence for an hour before she speaks again. "What did you tell them back at the precinct?"

"That I needed some personal time to deal with a family emergency." Olivia's voice is soft, contemplative.

Amanda's soft bark of laughter is just loud enough to cause Frannie to lift her head, look around the car, and return to sleep with a soft sigh. "Are you kidding me? No one will believe that."

Olivia shrugs.

Pursing her lips, Amanda traces a tongue over her upper teeth. "Liv I want you to transfer me when we get back." Knowing that this is not really the right time to be discussing it, but in the past Olivia always managed to extricate herself from the conversation when Amanda brings it up. Knowing that she's going to upset Olivia by targeting her when she's in the car and unable to get away.

And it does. She can see it in the way the brunette clenches her jaw, the way her face hardens, the way her knuckles tighten around the steering wheel. Brown eyes flash to the rear view mirror, looking at the sleeping teenager and then to Amanda.

"She's asleep, Liv. And she's listening to music," Amanda doesn't intend to back down. "I'm not going to be the reason you lose your job." She would never forgive herself. "Put me in another unit — homicide, or vice, or-" a quick glance to the back, "put me in the canine unit. But the longer we do _this_ , the greater chance we have of getting caught."

"I don't want to lose you as a detective," Olivia voices thickly. From the slight tremble in her voice she can tell that Olivia is struggling to maintain control. "Or as ... more."

"And I don't want you to resent me when your life's work goes up in smoke because of an indiscretion." Amanda keeps her voice quiet, grateful for the fact that Stephanie has her headphones in and music blaring. She had no idea how lightly the teenager sleeps.

"Is that what this is?" Olivia's retort is sharp, biting, and Amanda instantly realizes her mistake.

"No," she replies softly, reaching a hand out to rest on Olivia's thigh, placatingly. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't want you to lose everything that matters over... me."

Olivia is silent, her jaw clenching and unclenching, and Amanda is about to look away when the brunette speaks. "Do you know what the last thing Cragen said to me before he left?"

Amanda has vague memories of Olivia and their old captain together on the day Cragen left. They were all still in shock at the fact that he'd put in his papers without telling anyone, especially so soon on the heels of Munch retiring. True he had been six months away from mandatory retirement, but still it was unexpected.

When Amanda doesn't answer, Olivia continues, "he told me," a pause — the memory is clearly an emotional one for the brunette – "that he had given his whole life to his career and his job. He said he never took care of his own happiness, and he told me not to make the same mistake." Olivia inhales shakily, "So please, we can look at a transfer, if that's what it takes, but if it's a matter of choosing between the two, I know _who_ I would choose..."

Amanda blinks back tears, but she nods, pushing against her seatbelt to plant a soft kiss on the brunette's cheek. "I'm sorry for ambushing you in the car."

"You always did have a shitty sense of timing," Olivia half-laughs, half-sobs, reaching up and tangling her fingers through Amanda's hair. "You're not entirely wrong though. Fin knows."

Amanda draws back, her blue eyes going wide at this particular revelation. "Fin... my partner Fin? He knows we're sleeping together?" Amanda groans loud enough that Frannie wakes up, the puppy stretching its long body onto the center console. Amanda reaches over, taking the dog into her arms and releasing another groan. He's never going to let her hear the end of this. "You couldn't let me talk to him?"

"He figured it out," Olivia shakes her head defensively. Amanda just buries her face in her hands. She should have guessed Fin would figure it out. After all, he knew her well enough to guess when she relapsed before anyone else, and had known Olivia longer than anyone else in the precinct.

"Figured what out?" Comes a sleepy voice from the back seat. Blue eyes lift, glancing back through the rear view mirror. Stephanie is blinking sleepily, rubbing a fist against her eyes.

"It's nothing, sweetie," Amanda bumps her nose against Frannie's, smiling as the puppy lathers her face with kisses.

"Amanda that's just gross," Olivia's face is scrunched up as she shoots an exasperated look towards the blonde.

"Actually did you know dogs have cleaner mouths than humans?" Stephanie straightens, leaning through the console, fingers outstretched for Frannie.

"I highly doubt that," Olivia's dubious reply makes Amanda smile. The blonde turns, passing Frannie back to Stephanie, turning back to Olivia.

"She's actually right, Liv," Amanda's grin is even broader as she watches Olivia squirm. Olivia flashes her a look that says both ' _are you kidding me_ ' and ' _do you ever want to kiss me again?_ '

"Hey are you two dating?" The question catches her completely off guard, even though it probably shouldn't. She and Olivia look at each other, the brunette raising her eyebrows as if to say it's her turn to explain this.

"Seriously, you answered the door with a giant hickey on your neck," Stephanie shakes her head, rolling her eyes with typical teenage impatience.

Amanda glares at Olivia. They have a strict ' _no visible hickey_ ' rule, and she almost forgot that Olivia broke it. This morning she'd managed to cover it up with a fair amount of makeup and the collar of her flannel shirt, but she had meant to talk to Olivia about her indiscretion before she'd been sidetracked.

Olivia's shoulders are shaking like she's struggling to contain her laughter. Blue eyes narrow, mentally plotting her revenge.

"You know it's probably best if you keep that little fact between us for now," Amanda looks over her shoulder to her much younger cousin. "Please."

Stephanie shrugs. "Sure, whatever. It's not that big a deal." The teen continues to play tug of war with Frannie, seemingly oblivious of the greater implications of her questions.

Amanda sinks back in her seat, rubbing her right temple before resting her mouth against her hand, thinking that the only reason Stephanie could say that is because she hadn't seen Beth Anne Rollins in the midst of a full-scale meltdown.

* * *

"A hickey, Liv, are you fucking kidding me?" Amanda storms into the main bedroom of their two room suite just outside Atlanta, racing into the bathroom and pulling the collar of her red flannel shirt aside, grimacing. The makeup had nearly worn off on the inside of her shirt collar, revealing a large-ish purple bruise at the base of her neck. Now she was going to have to worry about covering it up this entire trip.

Olivia leans against the door, arms crossed in front of her chest and a casual smile on her face. Amanda scowls at her cavalier nature, whirling upon the older woman with the force of a small tornado. "What were you fucking thinking?"

A wry smile twists Olivia's mouth, brown eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well at the time I was thinking that you tasted really damn good and how much I like it when you make that little nois..." She isn't able to finish that thought because Amanda's hand slaps over her mouth, the blonde leaning inwards and pinning the older woman with an icy glare.

"Your future sex life depends on you not finishing that sentence," Amanda hisses, eyes narrowed indignantly. "You and I had a rule about where and when we could place hickies."

Olivia reaches up with her left hand, slowly removing Amanda's hand from her mouth. "I'm sorry Amanda," this time the brown eyes appear sincere. "You were supposed to be off for two weeks."

"Great, so Fin and Carisi could see it when they visit and hound me for details," Amanda mutters, turning back to study it in the light of the bathroom.

Olivia slips behind her, wrapping her arms around the shorter blonde, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head and resting a chin on her shoulder. "Amanda, the only reason Stephanie saw anything was because of the tank top you wore last night. No one saw anything today," she pauses, "no one will see anything if you continue to cover it up." Olivia's eyes lose focus for a fraction of an instant before shifting back to meet Amanda's through the mirror. "We do need to talk though."

Amanda purses her lips and nods. "Can we at least wait until she goes to sleep?" Olivia nods, pressing another light kiss to the crown of her head.

Since they have no earthly idea how long they'd be in Atlanta, they both unload the contents of their suitcases into the dresser, shoving the empty pieces of luggage into the closet of the smaller guest room since Stephanie had brought just the single backpack. Besides, if all goes according to plan, Stephanie would be with her mom and sister tomorrow, Charles would be in jail, and they would be back in New York shortly after.

It is the unknowns that scare the hell out of Amanda.

Her mother is a big one. She'd nearly disowned Amanda after the whole Kim debacle, accusing her of forcing her to assist in her own daughter's arrest. And even though Kim is doing well — she is clean, sober, and receiving counseling for the first time in her life — Beth Anne Rollins has a long memory. Amanda touches her cheek, remembering the slap of her mother's palm against her face when she tried to follow her down the courthouse steps.

Charles is another one. He is a pervert on his best days and a sexual sadist the rest of the time. Even worse, this is Georgia, where guns are more prolific than Starbucks and kids are taught how to shoot almost before they're taught how to walk. There is a good chance this could turn violent, especially given her uncle's possessive streak. And if there is to be a confrontation, having backup would be paramount, leading to...

...Sam. There is an awful lot of the plan that hinges on her gaining the cooperation of someone in Atlanta PD. Since she has no idea if Reese Taymore is still in the same precinct, that meant she would be forced to rely on her old captain. Given that the last time she saw him she'd put a foot in his groin, maybe the best thing was to try to track Reese down.

Then there is Stephanie's mother. What would she and Olivia do if she refuses to listen to reason? Child Protective Services can take months before removing an abused child, more than enough time for evidence to be fabricated, stories changed, physical damage to be healed.

She knows Liv was joking when she mentioned that it would be easier to shoot Charlie and dispose of his body. But Amanda can't help but think that maybe Olivia is right.

"Sweetheart?"

Amanda lifts her eyes, realizing she's drifted off again and looking at Olivia, the older woman's compassionate brown eyes filled with concern.

"Sorry Liv, I guess driving took its toll on me." They'd both driven equal distances in order to make the trip in one day, but eight hours of driving was still more than she was accustomed to.

"I thought we could just order in pizza tonight and turn in early?" Olivia suggests hesitantly.

She's not really hungry, but she knows that Stephanie might be so she nods. While Olivia picks up the phone to order, Amanda wanders into the shared common area where Stephanie is watching an old episode of America's Got Talent and texting on her phone.

"Pizza okay?" Amanda nudges the teen's foot, raising an eyebrow at the speed at which her thumbs fly across the keypad.

Stephanie shrugs, eyes not leaving the screen of her phone.

"I have to ask you a couple of questions about your sister," Amanda dips her head, trying to make eye contact. "Can you help me out?"

Stephanie sets the phone down in her lap, her tongue tracing along her lower lip nervously.

"When was the last time that Charles abused your sister?" Amanda asks. It still seems so surreal to be discussing this at all.

Stephanie swallows, pressing a fingernail into her jean-clad thigh. "I don't know. Three, maybe four days ago?"

Amanda nods. "And you saw him coming out of her room?" At Stephanie nod, she continues, "does he know that you saw him?"

Stephanie's eyes begin to water. "I already answered all these questions. Why do you keep asking me?"

"Stephanie, people are going to ask you to repeat your story a lot in these upcoming months and it's really, really important that your story is consistent." Amanda rests a hand gently on her knee, "I believe you. That's why I am here. But I have to ask these questions because I am trying to figure out the best way to help your sister."

Those watery green eyes meet Amanda, the teen nodding resolutely.

Amanda smiles back weakly. "Good, now when does your mom change the sheets?"

The teenager frowns, "I'm not sure, Sunday? Unless my sister has an accident."

The blonde chews on her lower lip. "Does that happen a lot?"

"Didn't used to," Stephanie says with a frown. "Happens a lot more now."

 _Of course it does_. Amanda feels the beginnings of a migraine forming at her temples, deciding that comfort, more than food, is what she's craving. Making her way to dining area where her brown leather jacket is hanging off one of the chairs, she fishes a twenty out of her wallet.

"I'm going to leave this with you to pay the pizza delivery guy when he comes, okay?" At Stephanie's nod she continues, "I've got to plan some things over with Liv. If we're not out by ten I want you to go to bed, okay." Stephanie nods. "Charger for the phone stays out here." When Stephanie lets out a loud groan, Amanda shakes her head, not dissuaded. "I'm serious. Your sister is going to need you tomorrow, which means you need to sleep."

That seems to silence the teenager, who nods thoughtfully. Amanda makes her way into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, watching as Olivia's sleepy brown eyes slide open.

"You done reading her the riot act?" Olivia blinks sleepily, holding her arms open and giving a throaty hum of contentment when Amanda crawls into her outstretched arms, resting a head in the crook of her arm and throwing a fully clad leg over Olivia's. Now that she was here, she never wanted to leave. Both sets of eyes flutter shut.

"She's a teenager, you have to." Amanda says with no real heat. "Even with the good ones."

"Were you?"

"What, one of the good ones?" Amanda laughs because of all of the conversations she thought she'd be having with Olivia this is not one of them. "What do you think?"

"True," Olivia answers ruefully, "with your track record of following orders..."

"Remember that sex you wanted to have sometime this decade?"

"...I'm sure you were the best." Olivia finishes, nudging Amanda's bare foot with her own.

"Good save," the blonde smiles, because one of the things she admires most about Olivia is her ability to think on her feet. They lay there for an undetermined amount of time, the only sounds apart from their breathing the sound of the television in the other room.

"I would have been lucky to have someone like you in my corner when I was a kid." A pair of lips brushes Amanda's forehead, Olivia's long arms gently squeezing her torso.

"You're not going sappy on me, are you?" It is a jest, but also an entreaty. Amanda's way of pushing back against the encroaching darkness.

"God, no." Olivia's lyrical laughter is enough to banish the shadows, at least for awhile. "I'm so tired I don't think I can see straight." A beat. "Or move."

Amanda's eyebrows are doing their best to crawl off her forehead. She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. "So if I was going to offer you a lap dance..."

The blonde holds her breath, refusing to cave into the delirious laughter that often accompanies such utter exhaustion.

"Sadist."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: It's Wacky Wednesday, which means it's time for an update. Thanks everyone for your feedback. I make tweaks to my story based on your suggestions, and reviews provide motivation for me to work on a possible sequel in what I've affectionately** **labeled my Relapse-verse. Which means if you're a fan you're officially relapsed (relapser?).**

 **A little dark humor for a dark story. But hey, it is getting close to Halloween. Enjoy. Reviews are always appreciated.**

* * *

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 11**

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Look closely. Do you see his car?"

They are parked at the end of the block in their unmarked, three sets of eyes focusing on the driveway of a house two-thirds of the way down, where a silver Dodge Ram is parked. It's a fairly typical house for the neighborhood, single story brick ranch-style, two-car garage, with a neatly manicured lawn.

"Yeah, his truck is still there," Stephanie's shoulders slump dejectedly.

Olivia's eyes dart to her right, where both Stephanie and Amanda are nervously peering down the street. The brunette frowns, is about to suggest that that they try again later, when Stephanie's eyes widen and she points.

"There!"

Amanda inhales sharply and Olivia looks back from the side, watching as a tall, reasonably attractive man with graying hair and a black leather briefcase walks to the truck.

"What's he do for a living?" Olivia wonders if he'd be missed, because right now her gut reaction is to just shoot out his kneecaps and back over him with a car. But that would destroy the pleasure of leaking his sick little secret to whatever inmates live at the wonderful correctional facility he'll go to.

And she _will_ make sure the rest of his life makes William Lewis look like a picnic.

"Owns a car dealership," Amanda mutters, snapping out of her fog. They watch the truck back out of driveway and drive off in the opposite direction.

They wait in silence for fifteen minutes, just to make sure he's not returning, and then they pull into the driveway.

"You ladies ready?" Olivia arches an eyebrow at her two passengers.

Stephanie visibly brightened, "now she'll have to listen." She flings her door open with typical teenage exuberance, ready to race to the front door of her house.

Amanda cringes.

"Stephanie, wait!" Olivia opens her door to intercept the teenager before she can get ahead. She grabs ahold of the girl's bicep before she can dart off. Confused green eyes glance up at the lieutenant.

"Stephanie, you did really good job getting help for your sister," Olivia begins, wincing internally when Stephanie visibly brightens. There is always the possibility that things will not go well, and Olivia has seen the devastion such an outcome can bring. "But when we get inside, I need for you to go to your room and pack a suitcase, because Amanda and I need to talk to your mom alone. Can you do that?"

Stephanie frowns, but before she can say anything another voice calls out, "Stephanie Anne Monroe you get inside this house right now."

There's a woman standing in the doorway with wavy brown hair that falls just below her shoulders and bright green eyes that mirror Stephanie's. She's wearing a royal blue sweater and khakis, and the look on her face is a combination of embarrassment, consternation, and fury.

Olivia glances over her shoulder, where Amanda is stepping out of the car, her face a ghostly white. Their eyes meet, Olivia offering her what she hopes is a supportive smile. She's never been all that great at the girlfriend thing with any of the previous men she's dated, but she _is_ a great detective. And right now, those skills are how she can best help Amanda.

The brunette grabs her bag, following Amanda and Stephanie to the front door, shaking her head slightly. Christ, the woman standing in the doorway can't be any older than Amanda, and if there is a roughly a twenty-five-year age difference between Amanda and her uncle...

"I know," Amanda murmurs, shaking her head, touching Olivia on the forearm. Amanda's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes, the blonde walking towards the door with the teenager.

"Hi, I'm Amanda, and this is Olivia," Amanda gestures to the brunette. Her southern drawl seems more pronounced as she extends her hand to the lady who'd summoned the teenager. "You must be Stephanie's mom."

"God help me, but yes," she shakes her head, eyes guilty as she looks back and forth between Olivia and Amanda. "I'm Katie," she shakes Amanda's hand, then Olivia's, before turning her focus to the suddenly silent Stephanie, eyes narrowing. "You get your behind to your room right now. I'll be in there to deal with you later."

The teenager scowls, glancing back at Olivia and Amanda, who pins her with a raised eyebrow. Chastised, Stephanie slinks into the house, her mom giving her a quick swat on the behind as she passes by.

"I can't thank you enough for bringing her back to me," Katie manages to appear both grateful and mortified, shaking her hair lightly. "Would you both like to come in for a drink? You all must be tired from driving all that way."

Olivia and Amanda exchange glances.

"That would be wonderful," Amanda responds cautiously, her tone neutral, following Katie inside. They are aware they are supposed to have arrived in town this morning, had briefly discussed strategy while laying in bed last night. Olivia rests a hand discreetly against Amanda's back, offering her silent support for the next stage of their gameplan.

"Actually do you think I can use your restroom?" Olivia asks. It is a pretty classic strategy, divide and conquer, one detective interviewing the target while the other snoops around, looking for evidence. She drops her hand as Amanda passes a weak smile over her shoulder, turning her attention to their host. "It's been a long drive."

"Of course, hon," Katie gestures down the hallway. Olivia starts for the restroom, listening to the fading voice of southern hospitality over her shoulder. "Can I get you both something to drink? I can put a pot of coffee on, and I just made a pitcher of sweet tea. We also have lemonade?"

"Coffee would be great for the both of us," Amanda says, gesturing towards the departing Olivia. "Why don't we get to know each other?"

The low sounds of conversation filter down the hallway, as Olivia detours past the bathroom, past a closed door that she deduces is Stephanie's by the sounds of Taylor Swift, to the room on the end, which she has already determined is Emily's room, based on the light pink walls she can see through the cracked doorway.

Quietly opening the doorway to the bedroom, Olivia slips inside, shutting it behind her. Brown eyes scan the room in silence — for all intents and purposes it looks like any other little girl's room, daybed up against the wall, covered in a Frozen bedspread and piled high with stuffed animals, posters of animated movies decorating the walls. There is a large, expensive-looking dollhouse on a low-lying white round table and a white dresser against the far wall. Stepping up to the closet, Olivia peeks inside, seeing a white wicker hamper underneath a row of clothes.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out a set of latex gloves, donning them before pulling out a miniature UV light she appropriated from the medical examiner's office. Convincing someone that their child is being abused when that person is in denial is a tricky business without solid forensics, and when the abuser has been at it a long time they typically cover their tracks very well.

Tracing the black light along the edge of the duvet, Olivia works quickly, conscious of the fact that Amanda will only be able to stall so long before her absence is noted. There are no traces of fluids on either side of the duvet, none on the sheets, or along the wall. Untucking the fitted sheet she peers underneath. Eyebrows raise, quickly exposing the mattress underneath and peering at a faded reddish-brown stain. She's been doing this long enough to know what she's looking at.

Pulling a small spray bottle from her bag she hits the site with the Luminol, passing the light over it and pursing her lips when she gets a hit. Tucking the fitted sheet back over the dried blood, she traces the black light over the pillowcases, stuffed animals, anything that would contain fluids other than blood. Bleeding could be explained away — semen doesn't lie.

With each negative hit, Olivia is beginning to grow more and more frustrated. Shy of forcibly taking Emily to the hospital to do a rape kit, she's beginning to think that the only way they're going to nail this bastard is to plant some kiddie porn on his hard drive.

Which she may do anyways, but what she really wants to do is nail him for raping his stepdaughter. Actually, she'd like to nail him for raping Amanda too. But unfortunately the statute of limitations won't permit it.

Then it hits her.

Stephanie said her sister had been wetting the bed.

Olivia races towards the closet, opening the hamper. Sure enough, there is a nightgown and a set of sheets in there. Olivia pulls out the nightgown, tracing a black light over the surface.

There, on the inside hem, a phosphorescent glow.

"Got you, you sick son of a bitch," Olivia bites her lower lip as she uses her knife to cut a small piece of the sample from the fabric. Normally she'd never dream of doing something like this — Melinda would kill her, for one — but they need indisputable evidence before going after Charles.

And Olivia is determined to make this stick.

She drops the fabric in the small bottle of reagent that will identify it as their sample, lips pursing grimly when it changes color.

Most definitely semen.

Olivia bags the nightgown, as well as the sheets, sealing the clear evidence bags and tucking them into her bag. She'd really like to take the sample from the mattress, but she doesn't want to interfere in the crime scene any more than she already has. She is still holding out hope that Atlanta PD will investigate and she wants this bastard to fry. Instead, she opens the door cautiously, stepping into the hallway and going back to the main living area, where Amanda and Katie are talking about Katie's childhood.

Blue eyes lock onto Olivia's when the brunette enters the room, the lieutenant nodding slightly to relay the news to Amanda. The blonde's mouth tightens slightly as she turns her attention back to their host.

"I'm just so glad to finally have the opportunity to meet you and your friend, Mandy." Katie says apologetically. Olivia sits down quietly next to Amanda, fighting the urge to rest a hand on her bouncing thigh. "I just feel so embarrassed by what Stephanie has done and I am so sorry. She's been a bit of a handful since her daddy died but she's never done anything like this," Katie continues, her cheeks flush as she shakes her head.

"It really is no trouble," Amanda reassures her, glancing back to Olivia for support. "She seems like a good kid. Her heart seems to be in the right place."

Katie shakes her head, sipping at her cup of coffee. "She and Charlie never really got along. But like I said before she's been a bit of a handful ever since her daddy died."

"How did he die?" Olivia asks, mostly to establish a timeline in her head.

"Oh he served in the military," There's a sadness in Katie's eyes as she says this. "He was killed in Iraq about … seven years ago. Roadside bomb took out his convoy."

"I'm so sorry," Amanda murmurs, resting a hand on Katie's forearm.

"Thank you," Katie rests a hand on top of Amanda's, her green eyes bright. "Charlie was an absolute godsend when he started coming around. He takes such great care of us and he absolutely dotes on my girls."

Amanda's back freezes ramrod straight.

That is her cue. "Katie," Olivia pauses, aware that she's walking a delicate line. "Does Charles ever act... differently... when he's around your Emily compared to Stephanie?"

Katie frowns, the brunette's eyes shifting between Olivia and Amanda. "Well, yes but I just told you Stephanie and he don't get along," eyes darting back and forth, "on account of her thinking he's trying to replace her daddy."

"Does he pay more attention to Emily, maybe buy her special presents, hug her a little too long, tickle her?" Olivia presses forward, even though Amanda is flinching with every syllable. Olivia discreetly rests a hand on her girlfriend's back, tracing small, comforting circles against her sweater with the tip of her index finger.

"Well, of course he does." Katie responds with a frown, genuinely confused, obviously reading Amanda's discomfort and Olivia's empathy. "Mandy, what's this about?"

When Amanda doesn't answer, Olivia takes point. "Katie, when Stephanie arrived on Amanda's doorstep she told us that she'd come to get help because Charles was abusing her sister."

Katie shakes her head, breaking eye contact for the first time since Olivia joined them. "Oh Lord, that's just not possible," her hands are around her coffee mug, gripping it tight enough that her knuckles go white. "Charlie adores my little girl, both of them." Exasperated eyes flash down the hallway towards Stephanie's bedroom.

"Buys her lots of presents?" Olivia prompts.

"Because he's a _good_ father." There is a hint of steel in Katie's voice now, green eyes flashing with angry exasperation. "Look, I am really sorry that Stephanie dragged you into this and she _will_ be punished for what she did, but if you drove all the way down here on some sort of quest I am afraid you've wasted your time. Charlie is just not capable of something like..."

"He raped my sister," Amanda's voice is quiet, but her words carry enough weight to silence Katie. Blue eyes lift, leveling on the other woman with a quiet determination. Katie's mouth has formed a perfect 'O', her body frozen in stunned silence. "Kim wasn't even ten years old when he raped her." Amanda licks her bottom lip. "He's more than capable of it."

"That... it can't..." The color has drained from Katie's face, her complexion a ghoulish green. Olivia can't decide if she wants to pass out or throw up.

"Katie," Olivia reaches out, resting a hand lightly on the younger woman's forearm, because she's as much a victim in this as her daughter. "Emily, she's been different lately, hasn't she? Wetting the bed, moodier, more clingy?" At Katie's weak nod, Olivia continues. "Amanda and I wanted to be sure that something was really going on before we spoke out." Reaching into her bag, she pulls out the glass vial and the bagged pajamas. "I found some suspicious fluids on Emily's nightgown, was she wearing these last night?"

Katie nods weakly, her breathing shallow. "She had another nightmare and had an accident. We had to change her sheets and pajamas."

Olivia nods, holding the vial up again. "One of the things we do in our investigations is to test suspicious fluids." She shakes the blue liquid. "I found one of those on your daughter's nightgown and removed a piece." Jerking her chin to the fabric. "This particular fluid is normally colorless, unless it comes into contact with semen."

Katie's hands slap over her mouth, face twisting in horror as she pushes to her feet. Olivia releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Facts finally sliced through the layers of denial. She glances briefly to Amanda. The younger woman is sitting silently, eyes focusing vacantly at a point somewhere in the distance. Olivia gently touches her on the shoulder, and the brunette pushes to her feet, making her way to where Katie is standing, shoulders shaking in silent sobs.

"I need for you to listen to me," Olivia murmurs. Red-rimmed green eyes raise to focus on the lieutenant. "I need you to focus on what I'm saying. Does Charles have a laptop?" Green eyes blink in confusion. "Yes, it's in the office. Why..." those eyes widen in abject horror. "Oh my god..." Katie sways, the brunette holding onto her bicep to prevent her collapse.

"You need to pack a suitcase for yourself and Emily, Bring the laptop." Olivia urges, raising her voice slightly, the NYPD lieutenant emerging. "And then we need to go pick up Emily from school and have her looked at by the hospital."

Katie nods, tears silently streaking down her cheek, shuffling in the direction of the master bedroom. Olivia waits until Katie is safely down the hallway before she moves back to the couch, dropping to her knee beside Amanda, concerned mocha eyes scanning over the blonde, resting a hand on her knee.

"Are you..."

"I'm fine," Amanda's eyes are absolutely unreadable, an emotionless mask in place as she looks over at Olivia. The brunette waits silently, patiently. She knows Amanda better than that.

"I just..." Amanda voices haltingly, impassive veneer dropping for a fraction of a second. "I'd hoped that it was a mistake." Pained blue eyes rise to meet Olivia's. "But this is really happening, isn't it?"

Olivia drops her forehead against Amanda's before brushing her lips across the pale skin. She knows this is going to be difficult for the younger woman, has her reservations about Amanda getting too close to the investigation and the memories it could trigger. "Do you want to go back to the hotel? I can take them to the hospital for the kit."

Amanda shakes her head. "I'll be fine," she pushes to her feet, hand reaching into her back pocket. "I think I need to step out for a smoke."

Olivia cringes inwardly. Amanda's smoking is an ongoing discussion between the two women, and while Olivia hasn't really laid down an ultimatum, she has made it clear that she'd really, really prefer Amanda quit. However, in this situation, she can't really say that she blames her.

At least she's not gambling.

For that reason alone, she nods, giving Amanda's hand a reassuring squeeze as the younger woman steps outside. Olivia forces herself to her feet with a sigh.

It takes about an hour for Katie to pack a suitcase for herself and for Emily. They load up the car, taking the laptop for TARU to examine, and drive over to the elementary school to pick up Emily. Olivia and Katie go inside together.

"Mrs. Beckett," the heavyset receptionist seems genuinely surprised to see Katie there. "What an unexpected pleasure to see you. Is everything okay?"

They had practiced this very scenario in the car on the way over — Olivia and Amanda rehearsing what they wanted Katie to say over and over to ensure it would be believable, natural. The last thing they need is one of Charles' numerous friends tipping him off. These extractions were always dangerous, especially with a personality as volatile as his.

"Why, thank you for asking, Miss Stacey. I just forgot that my Emily had a pediatrician's appointment today, and I am here to pick her up." Katie smiles, her tone light and airy as she was instructed to do, though her eyes were still troubled.

"Why I'm glad to hear everything's okay," the secretary glances back and forth between Olivia and Katie. "I'll have her brought in from class."

They wait out in the hallway, and five minutes later a little girl materializes down the hall, dressed in a blue pleated skirt and a white button down shirt, her black Mary Janes clicking as she comes down the corridor. Her long brown hair is braided and a pink backpack is hanging over her right shoulder.

Katie races quickly to the young child, scooping up the eight-year-old into her arms and burying her face in her neck, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh God baby, I'm so sorry."

"Mommy, what's wrong?" Small arms wind their way around their mother's neck, legs wrapping around her waist.

Olivia gently grabs Katie by the bicep, looking up and down the hallway, "We need to go, now." The clock is ticking, they need to get Emily to the hospital, have her checked out, and get the three of them settled in the hotel under different names.

"Mommy?" Suspicious blue eyes study Olivia, curiosity warring with caution, Emily's tiny fingers fisting in her mother's shirt.

"Honey, this is Olivia. She's mommy's friend," Katie says, as they begin walking towards the exit. "She's come to help mommy take you to the doctor and then she has some questions for you."

Olivia smiles, "that's a pretty backpack, Emily," nodding to the young girl's Minnie Mouse backpack. "Can you tell me about it?"

The eight-year-old visibly brightens, and her voice fills the silence as they leave the school and head out to the car, where Amanda greets her cousin with a smile, repeating Olivia's compliment about the backpack.

The drive to the hospital seems to take an eternity.

* * *

"That should be it," the nurse says softly, lowering the drape and placing the last swab in the cardboard box. "You did so good, sweetie," pushing to her feet, stripping her latex gloves off and regarding tearful mother and daughter. "I'll give you a few moments to get dressed."

Olivia tucks the rape kit underneath her arm. They are going to deliver it personally to the precinct tomorrow to preserve chain of custody. She glances briefly over her shoulder, where the crying Emily keeps apologizing to her mother and a sobbing Katie is apologizing to her daughter. It's hard not to feel like an intruder during moments like this, even after doing this for seventeen years.

"Katie, as soon as you and Emily are ready, come on outside so we can talk."

Katie nods, keeping a vice-like grip on the sobbing eight-year-old as Olivia excuses herself, stepping outside to the nurses station where their nurse, Edith, is tapping her notes into the computer and labeling a SD card.

"Lieutenant, I've taken the liberty of copying the photographs for you." Troubled grey eyes lift to meet Olivia's. "Will you be taking custody of the kit?" At Olivia's nod, she pushes some paperwork over. "I'll just need for you to fill these out." Olivia nods, stepping up to the counter to fill out what is pretty standard paperwork for documenting chain of custody.

"Legally I'm required to report the abuse to the Atlanta Police Department and Child Protective Services." Edith finishes typing her notes, looking up to the detective. Olivia and Amanda had pulled her aside when they first came in, explaining the somewhat delicate circumstances surrounding this situation.

"We just did an emergency removal," Olivia scribbles an address onto a piece of paper. "But CPS should be able to question them at this location tomorrow." Olivia smiles at the nurse, appreciative at her handling of the situation. "We'll take care of notifying Atlanta SVU after we get them settled in their safe house."

"I think I can live with that," Edith smiles, extending her hand. "I hope you get the bastard that did this."

"I hope we can too," Olivia huffs, rubbing the SD card between her thumb and forefinger. "I hope we can too."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: This chapter was perhaps the hardest one to write in this entire story. Likewise, it'll probably be a difficult one to read, though it's a fairly important one in the context of the characters and their development.**

* * *

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 12**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

Walking into the Atlanta Police Department is like walking into the middle of a prison yard and announcing you're a police officer.

Olivia has insisted on accompanying her, but it is Amanda who carries the rape kit into her old precinct, pointedly ignoring the stares and the whispers that trail her as she blazes along the familiar path to her old captain's office. Olivia is hot on her heels, cocoa eyes flashing angrily in challenge at anyone who appears hostile or who so much as looks at Amanda funny.

A pair of detectives in button down dress shirts and blue dress pants move to block her path, but Amanda is ready for something like this, closing the intervening distance and staring between the two men to Captain Reynolds' closed doorway. They are taller than her and must easily outweigh her by fifty pounds a piece, but Amanda shows no fear as she pushes her way into their faces, causing the both of them to take a pointed step back.

"Move," Amanda hisses through clenched teeth, the blonde glaring pointedly between the two gorillas blocking her way forward.

"You aren't welcome here," the gorilla on her left says, crossing burly forearms exposed by rolled up shirt sleeves, lower lip jutting out like bulldog.

"I'd turn around and go back to where you came from," the gorilla on her right says, staring down his beak-like nose, crossing his meaty forearms as well.

"You two dickheads have three seconds to get out of my way and let me speak to Captain Reynolds or I will pull your testicles out your throats and feed them to you for dinner." Amanda doesn't wait for a response and shoves her shoulder between the two men, forcing her way through, cobalt eyes locked on her destination. She doesn't need to look back to know that Olivia is hot on her tail. Amanda marches right into Sam's office, flinging the door open, where the taller man is standing while facing the window, talking on his cell phone with a smile on his face.

Sam Reynolds is dressed in his trademark white shirt and dark red tie, and dark blue dress slacks. His thinning brown hair is a little more sparse than Amanda remembers, the lines around his mouth a little deeper. They get even more pronounced when Amanda enters the office alone, Olivia standing outside like a secret service agent to keep anyone else from disturbing them and to afford her a little bit of privacy, something she and Olivia had agreed upon the previous evening.

"Let me call you back," Sam says to whoever is on the other end of his phone call. There is a pause. "Yeah it won't take too long." He turns his back, listening. "Sure, that will be good. Bye." A weighty silence fills the air as Sam Reynolds turns around, his darkened gaze unimpressed with Amanda's presence. "You have some nerve showing up here after what you've done."

"Trust me Sam, if I had any choice in the matter I wouldn't be here," Amanda says, setting a large paper bag on top of Sam's desk, pressing her open palms against the scuffed wooden surface. She decided not to reopen old wounds at this time – regardless of whether she is right or not, she needed Sam's cooperation on this for Emily's sake. They could argue Patton and Sam's own advances after the case was over. "But I'm not here for myself."

"What's this?" Sam asks, eyes narrowing as he jerks his chin to the bag, cautiously prodding at the bag as he takes a seat behind the desk.

"A rape kit," Amanda has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sarcastic observation at the irony of Atlanta's SVU chief not recognizing a rape kit. Granted few commanding officers are as hands-on as Olivia but even so...

A rape kit still seems like such a surreal thing for her to be thinking about when it comes to her own family – she'd long given up on any hope of justice for Kim, never mind herself. This whole situation with her uncle is like watching the same bad movie on a continual loop. She still expects to wake up any moment with her old life back. "It belongs to an eight-year-old girl who lives down here with her mother and her sister."

"And why are _you_ bringing me this instead of one of my own detectives?" Sam grabs the bag, peering inside at the contents of the hospital exam, the nightgown, the sheets.

"Because they approached _me_ for help," Amanda wonders if she should sit, but decides that if Sam wanted her to have a seat he would offer it. Besides, with any luck she and Olivia would be out of here and on with the rest of their day. "My lieutenant is here to vouch for it, we'll even pay to test it."

Well, NYPD may not agree to pay for it, but Olivia had mentioned something about pooling their own resources right before bed yesterday.

Arching an eyebrow, Sam grabs the bag and sets it aside, leaning back in his chair and interlacing his fingers over his stomach. "And just why would you do that? What's your angle here?"

Amanda swallows, her eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments. Now comes the part she is absolutely dreading. "She's family, Sam. And she's just a kid," emphasizing the latter to remind Sam that this is not about bruised egos and hurt feelings.

"Family?" This catches Sam off guard. Amanda's family is fairly well-known around the precinct — Kim's escapades were practically famous, as was her mother's baking and entertaining skills. He frowns, looking from Amanda back to the bag in suspicion. "Charles' kids?"

Her heart sinks – she had a hunch that the phone call she interrupted might have been from her uncle, and if not from her uncle, from someone tied to her uncle in some way.

"Are you out of your goddamned mind?" Sam's voice raises in anger, his eyebrows lifting incredulously, her former captain shoving to his feet as he paces to the window. Olivia's head pokes inside the room, but Amanda shakes her head slightly, indicating that she still has things under control. The brunette nods, resuming her sentry position.

"You mean would I manufacture a rape allegation just so I can walk into a hostile station that I voluntarily transferred out of five years ago because I have nothing better to do?" Amanda raises her own eyebrow in challenge, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Don't flatter yourself, Sam. I vetted this before I even showed up here. It's legit."

"And I suppose you are to blame for his wife and children disappearing? You do know that if you assisted his wife in abducting those children you could possibly be charged?"

"Oh please, Sam, tell me how you're going to charge the mother of an abused eight-year-old with kidnapping of her own biological children from a non-biological parent," Amanda rests her hands on her hips, pacing around the desk. "Why don't you ask yourself how desperate someone would have to be to disappear with two girls and nothing more than the clothes on their backs?"

"You want me to believe that he sexually abused his own stepdaughter?" Sam closes the intervening distance, brown eyes hard. "Just how many men do you plan on accusing of indiscretions here?"

Amanda pushes him angrily, watching with satisfaction when his eyes register surprise, even though the difference in their body weights mean he doesn't travel further than a foot or two. Raising a finger she pokes it directly into his sternum. "This _isn't_ about Patton. This isn't even about me. This is about a little girl who is so badly torn up that she'll never have children," watching with satisfaction when Sam flinches.

"This is about _physical evidence_ , which _I_ brought you, and it's about you doing the goddamn _right_ thing regardless of how much you hate my guts." She circles back around the desk, grabbing the rape kit and curling her fingers around the crinkly brown paper. "Now if you can't do that, Sam, then I'll take the fucking evidence to the local FBI field office and let them know why _you_ aren't capable of acting like a fucking professional."

Sam's dark brown eyes stare at Amanda, his hands still on his hips, lips pursed, calculating. "I want my own men to interview the family."

Mission accomplished. "Done," Amanda lifts her chin, meeting Sam's gaze fearlessly. "But they better treat her with some compassion – she's been through a lot." Last thing she needed were tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum silencing her innocent cousin into silence.

"My men _know_ how to do their jobs," Sam snaps, grabbing the rape kit off the desk from beneath Amanda's fingertips. "We're not the ones with professionalism issues, Detective Rollins – no one in this department tried to flatback their way into a promotion."

"Okay _that's_ it..." Olivia rounds the corner, her expression absolutely murderous but Amanda spins and intercepts the brunette before Sam decides to have them both arrested, pressing a hand against Olivia's sternum to stop her forward momentum. The last thing she really wants is to spend any more time down here than she absolutely has to, and even if the charges Sam dreams up are a fucking joke she wouldn't put it past someone in this department to make sure they spent every last moment of their incarceration in fear of being shanked.

"Liv," Amanda's voice is low, voice urgent. "Let's go. Now."

The tenor of the office has changed, the mood decidedly darker than when they arrived. But she's gotten what she wanted, and that's all she's here for. Let them say whatever the fuck they want to about her. What she has now is infinitely better than what she left behind in Atlanta.

Olivia's stormy gaze meets Amanda's own, but the brunette gives her a curt nod, glaring once more at the Atlanta SVU captain before turning and leaving the way they came, ignoring the silent stares that follow their departure.

It is a long, silent for a walk back to their car, each woman lost in her own thoughts. Amanda's feeling of foreboding only grows when she realizes what she has to do next.

What she needs to do _alone_.

"Amanda," Olivia begins as they seperate to their respective car doors, her brows knitting in concern.

"Don't," Amanda interrupts, crystal clear eyes meeting Olivia's, the older woman flinching in surprise at being cut off.

"Please," Amanda whispers pleadingly. "I can't talk about it right now. Not yet." She is barely holding it together as it is. If Olivia tries to make her talk...

Olivia's expression shifts into something infinitely more tender. "Of course," she says, reaching over and squeezing the younger woman's hand. "But Amanda, whenever you're ready to talk..."

Amanda swallows thickly, taking the olive-skinned hand in her own and pressing her lips against it, tracing a finger against the soft skin on the back, bringing the fingers against the bridge of her nose.

"I know."

* * *

Amanda sits in the driver's seat of the sedan, staring at the two-story craftsman with wraparound porch, pressing her lips together. She is alone, having told Olivia back at the hotel that she needed some time to clear her head. She can still picture the concern that was in the brunette's eyes when she passed over the keys. But to her credit, Olivia had simply kissed her on her forehead and asked her to be safe.

And one hour later here she is.

Releasing a breath of air in a huff, her bangs flutter against her forehead, and Amanda turns the ignition off. Opening her door, the blonde reaches down and brushes her jeans off, picking idly at a piece of lint on her pale blue turtleneck. It might be just a hair too warm for the shirt, but it's easier than trying to explain the heavy layers of makeup on her neck.

Then again, if she really wants to give her mother a heart attack, maybe she should have come over in a tank top.

And brought Olivia with her.

Amanda climbs the steps to the front door of her childhood home, hesitating only a moment before pressing the doorbell. There's a period of silence, during which Amanda closes her eyes, listening to the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, the sound of children playing and of cars and of football. It's a little too innocent, a strange dichotomy with the evil that used to lurk behind these walls.

"Amanda?" She opens her eyes, staring into the perfectly put-together visage of her mother. Beth Anne Rollins was always beautiful, but as she ages her looks have become even more regal. "What is it? Is Kim alright?"

She hasn't anticipated this — that her mom's mind would instinctively go to her younger sister, and Amanda hurriedly opens the screen door, raising a hand to forestall further inquiries. "Mama, Kim's fine," feeling a little guilty about causing the older Rollins any distress considering the fact that she basically strong-armed her mother into giving Kim up.

"Are you okay?" Beth asks, blue eyes skimming up and down Amanda's body. This is another thing Amanda hasn't expected, that her mom would show concern for _her_ safety and well-being. After all, the last time they'd talked her mother had slapped her for choosing her job over family.

If only she knew.

"I'm okay, mama," Amanda lies, because she is decidedly _not_ okay, but not wanting to get into the details of her distress this soon. She leans in, hugging her mother, feeling the older blonde relax, kissing her cheek briefly. "I had some business down here and I thought I'd drop by."

"Well I'm so happy you came to see me," Beth Anne Rollins is no fool, she can tell that _something_ is going on with her daughter, but she seems content to live in ignorance, guiding Amanda into the comfortable living room. "I spoke to Kim on Sunday after church. She's doing really well for herself — she's got herself one of those prison jobs where she's getting paid to do laundry. And she's really involved in one of those twelve-step meetings that they sometimes have in the prisons. And she says she's doing really well on her new medication..."

Amanda tunes her mother out, because she knows all of this already. She keeps close tabs on her sister, making sure she stays out of trouble while she's in prison, making sure that no one hassles her and that she's always got money on her books. She does this even though she should have cut ties when Kim framed her for Jeff's murder. Amanda does this even though she should have cut ties when her sister robbed her blind and pawned her furniture. She does this even though her Kim nearly cost Amanda her job again when she showed back up in New York as the main suspect in a rape investigation.

Amanda does it because Kim's her little sister. And she's family. And protecting her is just what Amanda does.

"Mama, Kim is actually one of the reasons I'm here, but can I ask you a question?" Amanda glances around the living room, taking in the pristine living areas, tastefully decorated in farmhouse chic. Pictures of her, her mother, and her sister, adorn the walls and the mantelpiece, the rarely-used fireplace set safely behind a metal screen. Amanda traces a fingernail along the brown leather sofa, cobalt eyes skirting over the matching love seat and the metal and wood coffee table with a wicker basket that contains wicker balls filled with cotton husks.

It's the home she grew up in, the home she had sleepovers in, the home she played with Kim in, the home she lost her virginity in. Familiar and yet strange at the same time.

"Well, what is it darlin'?" Her mother rises to her feet, making her way to the spacious kitchen that's separated from the living room by a granite bar and island. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Tea would be great," Amanda wrings her hands because she can't help but feel like this conversation is going to take a turn for the worse. The detective closes her eyes, taking a slow, deep breath to center herself. "Mama, why didn't you tell me uncle Charlie got remarried?"

Behind her, the sounds briefly stop. Amanda can almost picture it, her mother standing stock still, pitcher of tea in hand, frozen right as she is getting ready to pour a glass.

"Didn't I?" Beth's voice is airy, distant. The sounds pick up again. "Well, I could have sworn I said something but maybe I had spoken to Kim. Did you know she said she might get out early for good behavior?" Her mother returns to the couch with a tray that holds a pitcher of tea, two glasses, and some fruit. Amanda reaches for a slice of honeydew, nibbling on it because it gives her something to focus on besides the fact that she's sitting in the house where her uncle raped her.

"I met them, Mama," Amanda sips on her tea, her blue eyes rising to meet her mother's own. She has her mother's eyes. Her mother's eyes but her daddy's features. Her daddy's personality. His vices.

 _Maybe that's why mama loves Kim more._

The realization hurts more than she anticipates. That no matter what she does she'll always be second to Kim in her mother's eyes.

"That's nice, dear," Beth Anne Rollins remains frighteningly obtuse, drinking sweet tea and dipping a piece of cantaloupe in a tub of sweet cream cheese. "She's a little young, but she is absolutely crazy about him."

 _Not any more_ , Amanda glances away from her mother's searing gaze. "Mama, do you remember when I told you about uncle Charlie coming out of Kim's room when we were younger?"

There is a dead silence that hangs in the air like a blanket, threatening to smother all in its wake.

Beth's gaze has turned to ice, searing painfully into Amanda's own, her expression as frozen as the rim of the glass that is touching her lips. It seems like an eternity before the older Rollins moves, setting her tea down on the coffee table.

"Amanda, we have discussed this over and over," her tone is clipped, barely masking the underlying hostility. "Your uncle was helping your sister change because she had an accident. Why must you keep bringing up this unpleasantness?"

"Mama, Kim quit having accidents when she was two!" Amanda's own frustration is growing — at her own general sense of powerlessness, at her mother's frightening denial, at her own growing sense of terror that _he_ could talk his way out of this, again. "He wasn't changing her clothes, Mama. He was _touching_ her." Amanda's fingernails flex against her jeans. "He was _raping_ her!"

"Amanda, that is enough!" her mother's voice rises angrily, slamming the glass of tea so hard on the table that liquid sloshes over the rim, but neither woman seems to pay attention. "Charlie is not one of those... those people like you chase."

Amanda shoots to her feet, rubbing her hands over her face. "Why is it so hard for you to believe me?" Her voice gives way at the end, tears are pricking at the back of her eyelids. "He _raped_ Kim, Mama. He raped _me_. And now he's done it again and raped his _eight-year-old_ stepdaughter."

"Amanda, I think it's time for you to go," her mom pushes to her feet, face a tight mask of fury, color suffusing her neck.

"I. Am. Your. Daughter." Tears are streaming down her reddened face. Her nose is completely clogged up and Amanda is fairly certain that if she gets around to unclenching her fists she'll have the bloody indent of half-moons in her palms. "How can you not believe me?"

"I don't know how you can stand there and take the word of some twenty-five year old hussie and her two bratty kids over your own flesh and blood," Beth hisses, bending over to grab the tray. "There's no way he could have done this." When she jerks upright, the glasses sway precariously, and for a moment it looks like they will topple off the tray onto the floor and shatter.

"I am _your_ flesh and blood," Amanda sobs, her body trembling violently. The pain in her chest feels like it's ripping her in two. "Why do you think Kim did the things she did, _is_ the way she _is_?"

"Your father..."

"There's proof, Mama," Amanda cuts her off, not wanting to hear for the billionth time how all of Kim's emotional issues could be tied to her asshole father. Yes, her daddy was an asshole for leaving them but Kim's issues were far too complicated to tie to a singular event. Besides, Beth Rollins appears momentarily stunned. "There's _actual_ proof this time."

"Amanda, it's past time for you to leave." Not giving her a chance to protest, her mother walks out of the room, leaving Amanda hunched over clutching her midsection in pain. The blonde's soft sobs are the only noise inside the empty room, the sounds of her turmoil masking her footsteps as she stumbles towards the front door, down the porch, and to her car.

Not bothering to wait to regain her composure, she throws the car into reverse, tires squealing as she tears down the driveway. Shifting gears into drive, Amanda heads for the one, the only, place that will help her forget about it all.


	13. Chapter 13

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 13**

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

It's 1:19 in the morning, and Olivia Benson is worried.

Amanda's not answering her phone, not responding to her texts, and Olivia has no real way of reaching her. It's not like they have their radios.

Earlier, she'd been more than a little concerned when Amanda wanted to leave to clear her head, but she's trying to be less controlling, more trusting, more empathetic. But damn, it is _hard_ when Olivia knows where Amanda _could_ be.

Frannie is laying alongside Olivia, both pairs of legs splayed straight to the back, the puppy twitching in dream-filled sleep. Olivia's wearing a black tank top and matching yoga pants; her back is resting against the headboard, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose as she works on compiling her unit's reports.

Across the hallway, Olivia can only assume Katie, Stephanie, and Emily are doing the same. She'd spent the remainder of the afternoon answering their questions about where they go from here, walking them through the process of reporting the assault and prepping them on the types of questions they could be asked. In truth, she didn't know a lot about Atlanta PD procedure (and she didn't think much of their officers, to be honest), but she knows the field like she knows the back of her hand.

Besides, it gives her something to worry about besides her blonde detective.

Walking through that Atlanta precinct had been hard, very hard. It wasn't so much the angry whispers and the hostile glares that bothered Olivia as it was the fact that they were directed towards _her_ Amanda. Olivia has been in some hostile territory — Rikers, Sealview, but Atlanta sets her on edge in a way she hasn't been since those early days after William Lewis.

Grabbing her phone, Olivia is about to check it for hundredth time when she hears the fumbling of a door knob, and she springs out of bed, not really caring if it wakes up Frannie or the downstairs neighbors, racing towards the door right as Amanda comes stumbling in reeking of cigarettes and booze.

"Amanda!" She is just so happy to see her here, safe, that for a moment she ignores the fact that the blonde has kept her worried sick for the better part of eight hours by going off the grid. That elation gradually gives away to anger and frustration as Amanda stumbles into her outstretched arms, a yapping Frannie jumping excitedly into the air around the pair.

"Livvvvvvvvv!" The younger woman drawls, dragging out the syllable with a sort of drunken giddiness that usually precedes either a night hunched over the toilet, a massive morning-regret hangover, and/or showing up an hour late for her shift, dark sunglasses covering her eyes.

Amanda's dead weight nearly takes Olivia down, the older woman grunting as she shifts her weight to her dominant leg, moving her body into the wall.

"Why are you all bendy?" Amanda seems genuinely puzzled, head canting to the side as she blinks unfocused eyes at the older woman.

For the briefest of moments, Olivia considers dropping her.

Then, reasoning it would take too much effort to scrape Amanda off the carpet and it would be too heartless to leave her there stewing in her inevitable pool of vomit, she shifts her hip underneath the blonde and pulls an arm over her shoulder.

"Damn it, Amanda, I'm getting too old for this shit," Olivia squeezes her arm. "Now please help me before I drop you."

Amanda shifts her feet under her body, leaning against the brunette, stumbling alongside the taller woman into the bedroom. Olivia deposits Amanda at the base of the bed, the blonde falling to her back, turtleneck sweater rising up over her stomach, the pale skin exposed.

Normally, the sight would cause her to salivate, but now all she could concentrate on is getting the blonde into comfortable clothing and tucked into bed. Olivia leans down, removing her right sneaker and sock, then the left sneaker and sock, grimacing. The blonde smells like an ashtray and stale whiskey.

"Are you trying to get me naked?" Amanda props herself up on her elbows, grinning from ear-to-ear. Her blue eyes still struggle to focus on Olivia, whose fingers are fumbling with her belt buckle.

"Not in that way," Olivia shakes her head in exasperation, trying to summon some patience as she tugs Amanda's belt open and pulls her zipper down. Olivia taps the blonde on the outside of her leg. "Lift."

Amanda complies, watching as Olivia tugs her jeans down her legs, grunting softly with each forceful pull. The brunette pulls off one pant leg, then another, pointedly ignoring the younger woman's lust-filled moans. Brown eyes shift upwards, ignoring the familiar twinges of arousal when she sees that part of the blonde's underwear was tugged low in the process, exposing the top of Amanda's honey blonde curls.

"Ya know, if you want to get me in bed all you need to do is ask." The younger woman husks, nostrils flaring in arousal, her palms slicking down the tops of her thighs. Olivia shakes her head as she steps away, leaving Amanda lying there, fishing in the dresser for a tank top for the blonde. Olivia jumps when a set of arms wrap themselves around her middle, slipping underneath the hem of her own black tank.

"Christ Amanda!" The blonde's fingers are teasingly playing along her abdomen, causing Olivia's stomach muscles to flutter underneath the teasing touch. The brunette's hands clamp down on the roaming fingers, spinning in place, glaring at the drunk woman. Anger is easier to show right now than arousal, even though all she wants to do is throw the blonde down and have her way with her. "Amanda, we're not doing this, not when you're drunk, not when I've spent half the night wondering where the hell you were."

"Oh Liv, we don't need to talk..." Amanda reaches for the hem of her turtleneck sweater, tugging it over her head, the baby blue fabric falling from her fingertips. "I'm more in the mood for some action." She presses her body flush against Olivia's, latching onto the sensitive skin beneath her ear and suckling hard. Olivia's eyes flutter shut, whimpering slightly at the pleasurable sensation, goosebumps rising along her forearms when Amanda's hands cup her breasts through the thin fabric of her top, causing the underlying flesh to pebble in excitement.

Damn, she is making it hard to think clearly.

"Amanda, stop," Olivia twists gently away from the blonde, taking her wrists and holding them firmly in place until she quits resisting. Stormy blue eyes lift, meeting Olivia's cocoa orbs. Olivia's breath hitches in her throat, heart clenching painfully in her chest at the agony in the blonde's gaze. "Sweetheart, we don't have to talk tonight if you don't want to. But we're not going to make love tonight." Amanda starts to pull away, but Olivia refuses to release her. "Tomorrow, if you still want to, then we will."

Amanda crumples, falling against the brunette, her shoulders shaking in silent sobs. Olivia wraps her arms around the shorter woman, burying her face in the blonde waves, ignoring the smell of stale smoke, sweat, and alcohol.

"I've got you," Olivia soothes, her own eyes stinging with tears. She blinks several times, sniffing as a tear sneaks past the corner of her eyelid, snaking its way down her cheek. "I've got you."

They stay there, propped against the dresser, holding onto each other like a lifeline, until Amanda's sobs and both women's tears have long subsided.

"Let's lay down," Olivia murmurs, kissing the blonde tendrils. "Do you want the tank or not?"

Amanda nods, taking a step backwards and unhooking her bra, pulling the outstretched grey tank top over her body. Silently, they made their way to the bed, Olivia lying in the center, Amanda crawling to lay tucked against her side, arm draped over Olivia's stomach, bare leg thrown over Olivia's, tucked between hers. The brunette reaches over, shutting off the light, plunging the room into darkness.

She's just beginning to doze off when a small, almost tiny sounding voice breaks the silence. "There was this underground casino..." Amanda's soft voice is broken, hesitant. Olivia's body stiffens in the blonde's arms, her body frozen. She purses her lips, heart sinking, as Amanda continues, "I used to go there sometimes and I just ... I wanted to forget Liv."

Olivia isn't sure what to say, and disappointed doesn't even begin to cover how she feels, so she stays silent. She should have known better than to let Amanda go off on her own.

There is a pause, and then Amanda says, "I didn't do it, Liv." Olivia's eybrows arch in surprise, and her eyes dart down to the woman tucked against her side. "I didn't gamble. I went to a bar instead. I must have smoked an entire pack of cigarettes and drank my weight in booze but I didn't go inside that casino." Tearful blue eyes lift to meet Olivia's. "I didn't."

Olivia's heart clenches painfully, tears pricking her eyes once more. She ducks her head guiltily, feeling bad for doubting Amanda. Yes, Amanda is an addict, and there's always the risk of the younger woman relapsing, but she's been doing so well lately. "I'm so proud of you, baby." Pressing her lips against the blonde's forehead. "You did good, Amanda. You did good."

Amanda's hands fists Olivia's tank top, burying her face into the side of her chest. "I'm sorry, I know I must stink."

Olivia laughs lightly, glad at least that Amanda's self-deprecation is intact. "Well let's just say if I had to choose between Frannie or you..."

Amanda smacks her lightly, causing her to laugh once more. Olivia kisses her forehead again, settling back and closing her eyes.

Things are silent for a little while, and Olivia is nearly asleep when Amanda speaks again. "I saw my mom." The brunette tenses, is about to press the younger woman for details when Amanda continues, "It didn't go well, I don't want to talk about it tonight. I... just wanted you to know where I went. After the casino."

Olivia licks her lips, nodding, realizing that there will be plenty of time to recap Amanda's whereabouts tomorrow.

Both women are silent, and then Amanda asks one more question.

"Where is Frannie?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: So, I almost didn't put this chapter out this week, especially because I (feel) like I've been on death's door with a nasty bug (this is why you should visit your doctor when you're sick and contagious people, not your dentist.) Everyone knows doctors are assholes, anyways. Dentists are sweet and cuddly and we secretly love candy. Also we're likely to stab you painfully when you make us sick.**

 **But failing to update would deprive me of the opportunity to torture my friend Sheepish.**

 **Paybacks, my dear, are truly a bitch. Or maybe I am. Either way. Paybacks.**

* * *

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 14**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

It's a tongue worming it's way into her left nostril that wakes Amanda up, the detective snapping upright with a start, eyes flying open only to slam shut again as the bright light lances into her brain like an ice pick.

"Damn it, Frannie," Amanda groans, cradling her head in her hands as it throbs, pressing firmly on her temples to make the pain go away. It doesn't, not really. But it does lessen. A little.

A low chuckle erupts, and Amanda can't help but squint one eye open and pin its source with a angry glare. "Not helping, Liv." She jerks her head away as Frannie attempts to simultaneously lick and bite her nose.

Olivia is standing next to the bed, holding a bottle of Tylenol in her right hand and a glass of water in her left. Ordinarily Amanda would be extremely grateful but right now the pain is messing with all of her senses and making her extremely crabby.

"Sorry," Olivia says, not sounding all that sorry as Amanda takes the peace offering, scooping up the wiggling puppy and plopping her on the ground, nudging Frannie with her toe as the puppy attacks her sock. "We can try crating her again at night."

Amanda grunts, noncommittally, not sure much sleeping would be had with all the barking, tossing back the pain reliever and the water, polishing off the entire glass because she is so dehydrated. Her tongue keeps sticking to the roof of her mouth, and bracing herself against the sudden onslaught of pain, Amanda opens her eyes, wincing as she waits for the room to stop spinning. Olivia's visage comes into firm focus, the brunette now producing a bottle of water, and Amanda nods gratefully. "God, I love you," she forces out while Olivia passes it to her, downing the entire bottle before the room quits spinning.

"Bad?" The brunette asks, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed next to Amanda, hands gently resting on the edge.

Amanda doesn't need any prompting to know what Olivia is referencing.

"Pretty bad," Amanda's admits, trying to remember exactly how much alcohol she consumed the day before. She's damn lucky she made it back to the hotel room in one piece. God, she was such an idiot."I feel like I've been hit by a semi."

"That would seem about right," Olivia plucks at a piece of lint on her cream colored sweater, her mocha orbs leveling on the crease of her brown slacks. "You were pretty far gone when you got back." There's an undercurrent of tension beneath Olivia's words, the brunette's fingers digging lightly into the side of the bed.

Amanda's lips purse together, her eyes leveling on her blanketed legs. Memories of the previous evening, while disjointed, are trickling back into her consciousness. Stumbling back inebriated, throwing herself at Olivia, any one of the dozen or so times she woke up to puke her guts out, Olivia right by her side through all of it, holding her hair back, sometimes holding her.

Never complaining, not even once. Not even when she of all people has grounds to, both on personal _and_ professional grounds.

Amanda's head drops in shame and humiliation. "I'm sorry." Light blue eyes rise to meet Olivia's, which have risen as well. They lock gazes.

"I was really worried, Amanda." Olivia's tone is quiet, contemplative, and that perhaps hurts worse than all the yelling in the universe. "You turned your phone off. All I could think about is that you could have been hurt, or killed, or..." the brunette's voice trails off. There's no need to highlight the ' _or what_ '. They've both been working sex crimes long enough to know that there were some fates worse than death.

"I know," tears sting behind already puffy eyelids and Amanda wonders if she's on the verge of another breakdown. It seems like that's all she knows to do these days. "I'm sorry."

"Amanda, do you even understand how lucky you were to make it back here alive? Or what could have happened if you'd been stopped when you were driving back here?" Olivia shakes her head, the brunette clearly having spent her sleepless night deep in thought. "Do you know what would have happened if that casino had been raided with you in it? I can't fix something like that Amanda. Your career? It'd be over."

"I know," the blonde sniffs, her head turning to the side as her eyes fill with tears. She's been doing so well – now, her stupidity may cost her not only Olivia, but her shield also.

And sadly, she deserves it. All of it.

Amanda wipes her eyes, looking out the window at the grey winter sky, unable to meeting the recrimination she's sure she'll find in her lieutenant's eyes. "I deserve that," she clamps her lips together, choking back a sob. "I know you didn't sign on for this."

"No," comes the brunnette's admission, Amanda's heart clenching painfully at the acknowledgement. Long fingers reach out, turning her chin to meet Olivia's compassionate expression. "But I signed on for _you_ ," the brunette whispers softly. "And I'm in it for the long haul, if you'll allow it."

She can't fling herself into the brunette's arms fast enough, her heart racing, throat clogged thick with emotion. Olivia's arms slip around Amanda's waist, chin resting against the top of the blonde hair while the younger woman buries her face into the tanned neck, repeats her apologies through broken sobs until her voice is hoarse and her throat scratchy.

"Just promise me something."

At this point Amanda would promise to cut off her left tit if Olivia asks for it. Not that she would — she seems enamored by that particular part of her anatomy.

"No more gambling. And please _call me_ before you decide to go on your next bender," Olivia's lips brush her forehead, thumbs reaching up to brush the remaining tears from underneath the younger woman's eyes.

Amanda can't stop the harsh bark of laughter that escapes her throat, even though it hurts like hell.

"Don't worry, I won't even think about something like this for another three decades." Amanda promises, just so fucking grateful Olivia isn't leaving her over this. The brunette grins, rising to her feet and tugging Amanda with her, both women sporting identical smiles when Frannie starts frantically licking the blonde's bare toes.

"Now go shower and brush your teeth," Olivia nudges the younger woman in the direction of the bathroom, "before even Frannie stops kissing you."

Amanda sticks her tongue out at the older woman but does as requested anyways.

* * *

By the time Amanda pads into the shared living area of the suite, dressed in a plain peach t-shirt and jeans, feet bare, and toweling off her long, blonde hair, there was a bowl of oatmeal and some dry toast waiting for her on the coffee table.

"Damn woman, but I love you," Amanda must have puked at least a week's worth of meals, and even though the thought of food turns her stomach she acknowledges the fact that she needs to eat something to absorb the liquor.

"I thought we'd start simple and see how you do," Olivia sets another glass of water and a bowl of assorted fruit down as well. Amanda picks up a piece of the toast, nibbling on it, dropping her towel on the ground.

Olivia is quick to swipe it up before Frannie pounces. "Amanda, geez!"

"What?" Amanda looks up at the brunette innocently. "It's a hotel."

"And your wet towels still leave wet spots on the carpet," Olivia grumbles, stomping towards the bathroom to deposit the towel there. Amanda fights back a grin. "It's no different from an apartment."

Amanda grins, nibbling tentatively at one of the pieces of toast and batting her eyes innocently at Olivia. "Which one?" She asks, knowing that they've already established a rule for that at both of their respective places.

Olivia gives her a look that tells her she'd better not press her luck.

They literally have nearly every evening since they started dating at each other's places. Amanda even has her own space cleared out in Olivia's closet and vise versa. For all intents and purpose, one could argue that they are living together. And Amanda can't say she hasn't actually given the idea some thought.

Actually, she'd love nothing more.

But it is a hell of a big step to make. Neither of them has ever lived with another person during their entire adult lives, and even though they've been sleeping together for the better part of five years, living together was a hell of a big commitment. Amanda has absolutely no idea what Olivia would even say on the topic and right now, she's still afraid to ask. They would be announcing their relationship to the entire world, and taking whatever the consequences are.

"Amanda!"

The blonde's head snaps down, her eyes widening as she realizes Frannie is nosing around her plate, pink tongue lapping out as she struggles to get at the toast.

"Frannie, no!" Pushing the dog aside, issuing the command in a firm tone, she grabs the nearest chew toy and tosses it into the other room, watching as the puppy bounces after it.

"Hey," Olivia frowns, taking a seat next to Amanda, amber eyes lit up in concern. "Are you ok? Is your concussion bothering you? Your stomach?"

Has it really only been a few days since her concussion? It seems like yesterday.

Suddenly drinking felt even more stupid.

"I'm fine," comes the standard reply, scooping a bit of the oatmeal and forcing it down, ignoring the roiling of her stomach. She looks over at Olivia, reassuringly. "Just thinking." She hesitates. "When did you do this?"

"Yesterday, when you were gone," Olivia grabs a mandarin orange, peeling it. "I had a feeling that – well, let's just say I thought it might be needed. Room service lets you leave a menu on the doorknob for the next morning."

Amanda nods, slowly feeding herself, waiting until the nausea passes from each bite before attempting another. God, getting hammered here in Atlanta is absolutely the dumbest stunt she's pulled since... since she last went undercover. God – and that wasn't even that long ago.

She's damn lucky Olivia didn't make her sleep out in the hallway.

"Liv, I'm really sorry about yesterday. I mean it... It's just with everything that has gone on with... Charlie and then my old squad and then..."

"I know," Olivia rests a hand on Amanda's, interrupting her before she can spiral down the rabbit hole. "Eat." The brunette nods, pulls over her laptop to review the latest email and case reports from the precinct.

Amanda nods, turning up the volume on the muted television to a low enough level to provide background noise and allow for the ladies to talk.

"Barba dropped by the precinct earlier." Olivia says, eyes scanning over one of her messages. "The bartender pled guilty. Case isn't even going to trial."

Amanda snorts, scooping another bite up. Her stomach seems to have calmed down somewhat, enabling her to eat some of the toast. Hopefully some of this would absorb the remainder of the alcohol. "Remind me to have the guards at Rikers give him my regards."

Olivia chuckles, shaking her head. The two women are quiet, absorbed in their respective tasks — Olivia in her duties as lieutenant, Amanda with her eating. Once Amanda finishes, she moves to the ground, working a little on training with Frannie Mae before throwing the ball until the puppy finally plops down in exhaustion.

Amanda crawls her way back to the couch, climbing onto the cushion and resting her head in Olivia's lap. "I'm surprised the girls aren't over here crawling all over Frannie," she says as Olivia traces her fingers lightly through her hair.

"I talked with their mom earlier and let them know you had a bit of a late night," Olivia murmurs, eyes never leaving her computer screen. "She's a little leery about letting them out of her sight anyways." A pause. "Truthfully she seemed a little distracted."

Amanda snorts, "Mother of the year, that one."

The brunette's hand stops tracing, and Amanda immediately braces herself for the inevitable questions, but instead Olivia resumes wordlessly about a minute later.

Amanda closes her eyes and sighs. "I saw my mom. It was the same damn thing it's always been with my mom, Liv — 'Kim this' and 'Kim that' and 'You didn't see that' and 'He didn't do that'," she inhales, "along with a few 'you're destroying the family again's' for good measure." Amanda keeps her eyes closed, because if she looks at Olivia again she's gonna start crying again and she has cried enough these past two days to last a lifetime.

Olivia leans down, pressing her lips against Amanda's forehead. "I'm sorry, baby." Amanda opens her eyes, meeting the brunette's fathomless gaze. Olivia understands, at least in part, some of what she's going through. Amanda doesn't speak — it still hurts too damn much. But then again, she doesn't need to, not with Olivia. The brunette's arm drapes across her belly, hand slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, tracing comforting, idle patterns across her skin.

It's all so very peaceful, and Amanda allows her eyes to drift closed, just savoring the tranquility of the moment. It was a long evening, and maybe she'll be able to catch a little rest before...

...a loud banging against the door shatters the calm, startling both women, Amanda yelps, jerking as the noise causes a sharp stabbing pain in her temples. Olivia's arm tightens around her waist, keeping Amanda from tumbling to the floor, though just barely.

"What the..." Olivia mutters as Amanda sits up, both women standing simultaneously as the banging repeats.

"Atlanta PD, we have a warrant."

Olivia and Amanda trade confused looks. Olivia gives her a questioning look, Amanda shaking her head. "I have no idea Liv," Amanda forces herself to a sitting position. "I really don't." she repeats. "I swear."

"On our way," Olivia calls out, closes the laptop, pushing to her feet alongside Amanda, the pair moving quickly to the door. She glances back to Amanda. "Let me answer it," her voice is laced with a hint of command, interposing herself between Amanda and the doorway.

The brunette opens the door, is about to speak when the door is pushed open, a folded set of papers slapped against her chest by one bull-necked detective while the another one follows, his eyes a little more sympathetic. Rounding out the group is a uniformed patrol officer who stands just inside the door, his face an emotionless mask, hand resting lightly on his service weapon.

"Excuse me?" Olivia seems outraged by the lack of common courtesy. "I'm Lieutenant Olivia..."

"Take that one," the first detective cuts her off, indicating the main bedroom. "I'll take the second one. We'll regroup and search the main areas last."

Amanda has a strange foreboding forming in the pit of her stomach. She knows at least one of these detectives, Matt, and he's a good cop. They've known each other since high school, went through the academy together. Last she heard, he had just started working homicide out of the sixth precinct.

"Matt?" Amanda frowns, stepping in front of the pair, blue eyes searching. Surely there is some mistake.

"Step aside, Amanda." Stormy grey eyes meet hers. "Please."

"What the _fuck_ is going on?" Olivia's face is absolutely livid now, pushing into the face of the one who seems to be calling the shots. Furious at both at the intrusion and at their treatment by the hands of the detectives. "If you're going to be tearing apart our suite, we have a right..."

"It's in the warrant, ma'am," Matt says, intercepting Olivia before she can reach the other detective, who outweighs her by a good hundred pounds. "Just doing our jobs. Please, let us work. Don't make us ask again."

Olivia's jaw teeth slam shut, her jaw tensing as she does as instructed, hands tearing furiously at the warrant, her eyes scanning over the paperwork. Amanda frowns, stepping up behind Olivia, peering over her shoulder as she reads.

 _This warrant applies to any and all property of the suspect and/or the deceased that may have been used in the commission or facilitation in violation of the law in question, according to Georgia Penal Code Article..._

Amanda's face pales.

 _All guns._

 _All computers._

 _All cell phones._

"Liv..." suddenly there is the very real possibility that she is going to faint. Amanda sways unsteadily on her feet, clamping one hand over her mouth while the other digs into the brunette's shoulder.

"I see it," Olivia murmurs softly, her coffee-colored eyes equally as troubled. She reaches up with her right hand and closes her hand over Amanda's. "I don't understand what..."

"No one' been staying in this room," the bull-necked detective says, returning to the main living room. He looks back and forth between Olivia and Amanda, face contorted in what she can only guess is disgust.

"I've got something, Travers." Matt emerges from the main room, mouth grim, dangling from a pinky.

Amanda's gun.

"My service weapon," It slips out without thinking, Amanda raising an eyebrow, frowning at the glance the two detectives shared. "You know I'm a police officer, what..." her voice trails off, her heart stopping when she realizes what is happening. _No... not again._

"You can't possibly think..." Olivia seems to reach the same conclusion, her voice straining the limits of incredulity.

"I'm going to have to ask you to turn around," Travers grabs Amanda firmly by the arm, his grip like iron as he tugs her away from Olivia. Amanda's blue eyes trail helplessly to Olivia's, latching onto those dark pools that are filled with an anger and an agony that she's never seen before.

"This has to be a mistake. She's a decorated police officer, for Christ's sake." Olivia's voice is rising, and if anyone besides Amanda noted the undercurrents of desperation, they give no sign. "I'm her superior officer and we've been together this entire time."

"Amanda Rollins," there is a click as one wrist, then the other, is cuffed behind her back, Travers tightening the cuffs so they put an uncomfortable strain on her arms just up to the point where they hurt. "You are under arrest for murder."

Try as she might, Amanda can't stop the tears that roll down her face. Because, even if Olivia can't fully understand it, she does, and she knows how deep in trouble she is in.

"Someone is obviously trying to set her up. This is retaliation from someone in the Atlanta PD." Olivia storms into Matt's face, and in that moment Amanda thinks Olivia is angrier than she's ever seen her. More angry than when Amanda relapsed. Maybe even angrier than when Lewis escaped. "Who exactly is she supposed to have murdered?"

And Matt's expression is almost sorrowful.

"The murder of Charles Beckett."


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note: Sniffles all around. This chapter went through about a million edits, so if I missed something or if the wording throws you off I apologize. Just send me a private message. The next chapter may be a few days late - i have some important work business to deal with and a sick wife to tend to.**

 **Oh, and I'm working on another chapter of Need, too.**

 **Reviews are very much appreciated. Every time you leave one a kitten finds a home.**

* * *

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 15**

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Olivia Benson has seen many ridiculous things in her time as a New York City police officer. She's even seen some crazier things in her time at SVU — once, she saw a man claim an impassioned love affair with a ferret. Or maybe it was a hamster. But this absolutely ranks up there as one of the most ridiculous things she's ever seen.

Amanda Rollins looks absolutely shocked, her face a stark white as she looks at Olivia. "He's dead?" The blonde's voice trails off, eyes blinking as if she can't comprehend the meaning of the words. "But how..."

The question is spoken so softly that Olivia almost misses it entirely.

"What's going on?" The voice comes from the left, and Olivia looks up to see Stephanie standing in the doorway of the room across the hallway, green eyes shifting fearfully between the five police officers.

"A misunderstanding, sweetie, go back inside and we'll talk in a minute," Olivia levels a pointed stare at the teenager until she complies. The last thing she needs is an audience for... for this. Spinning back towards Matt and Travers, she presses, "Amanda was here last night with me."

They don't need to know that Amanda was actually gone for the better part of the afternoon – Olivia knows there's no way Amanda did this, so she doesn't feel bad about the omission. It was still dark when Amanda came home, so it's not technically a lie.

This whole thing has to be one bad joke or a very foolish prank – no interrogation, no checking of alibis, no forensics – this reeks of corruption and paybacks.

Matt shakes his head, "Forensics say otherwise, ma'am." He looks at the between the stricken blonde and his partner.

"Seriously?" Olivia's eyebrow arches, pinning Matt with what Amanda has affectionately coined her Benson glare. "What forensics could you possibly have found in-" brown eyes dart to her watch "-the past twelve hours? Have you guys heard about something called an interrogation? Or do you not believe in alibis? Or does Atlanta PD not teach their detectives the meaning of probable cause?"

She takes sick sense of pleasure at the way Travers' face seems to grow redder and redder as she hammers him on the finer points of law.

"Listen, Lieutenant Benson is it?" Matt's voice raises, the younger detective interposing himself between Travers and Olivia before an incident can happen. "We're just doing our jobs. Now please," his grey eyes harden. "Let us. I don't want to have to bring you in too."

Olivia almost – _almost_ – tells him to go ahead and arrest her. But she cannot help Amanda if she's behind bars on obstruction charges. She looks at her lover, her jaw clenching at the sight of those blue eyes glazing over, the blonde's soft whimpering almost unbearable.

"Take her to Central," Matt's command is gentle, yet firm.

"Wait," Olivia jumps in front of the detectives, grabbing Amanda's arm, forcing the younger woman to meet her gaze.

"Amanda," Olivia squeezes her chin to get her attention, recognition flitting through those pale eyes. "Do not say a word without an attorney present." She can't stress this enough, remembering the last time when Amanda went voluntarily to IAB and was charged with murdering her sister's boyfriend. "Do you hear me, sweetheart? Not. One. Word."

Amanda is staring straight through her, but for the briefest of moments, a flicker of something passes through the younger woman's eyes.

 _Terror_.

Olivia stands by helplessly, watching as a softly weeping Amanda is carted away by the Travers and the uni, fists clenching and unclenching in angry desperation.

"Look," Matt mutters softly once his partner disappears, stepping up to the brunette's side, his eyes troubled. "This order came from high up," recoiling slightly from Olivia's withering glare. "I've known Mandy since high school and I know she didn't do this. But they found her fingerprints and some strands of hair that gave us some preliminary DNA..."

"Yes, because we did a close job earlier yesterday morning." If her voice comes out sharper than intended, Olivia really doesn't care. This is _her_ detective, the woman she loves, being falsely accused of a crime she didn't commit.

"Your _victim_ ," Olivia tosses the word out with a sneer, since in her mind Charlie got what he deserved, "was a violent predator who was sexually abusing his eight year old daughter. We helped his wife and kids escape yesterday. But we did _not_ go back there. And Amanda most certainly did not kill him with a gun that's been in our possession since we arrived in Atlanta! Did you even look for another suspect?"

Matt shakes his head disgustedly, grunting disapprovingly. "Mandy's a detective – my superiors believe she'd know how to dispose of a gun."

"But not enough to cover her tracks?" Olivia's scrubs her hands over her face, voice rising in exasperation, beginning to pace back and forth. "Come on, if she had killed him then she would have wiped her prints so the murder couldn't be traced to her. She would have used bleach to clean up the scene. Someone is setting her up."

"Look, I'm not the one you have to convince. I'm doing all I can to find a viable alternative." Matt's head dips, a hand reaching towards the still pacing Olivia, who stops just out of his range, raising her own hands in warning. "The sharks are out for blood after the way things went down with Patton. My advice, get her a damn good attorney. Or find the real killer."

Olivia's eyes flutter closed, sinking down onto the couch, wondering how, exactly, she was supposed to do that.

* * *

CSU arrives alongside the detectives, and they are in her hotel room for a total of forty-five minutes, tearing up her life in their witch hunt.

Olivia watches impassively as they take Beckett's computer, knowing that back home TARU has already cloned the hard drive and is going over it with a fine-toothed comb. The phone is a bigger problem — Olivia texted Amanda repeatedly last night to find out where she was, so they'll know Olivia was lying about being with Amanda.

The brunette closes her eyes, head resting against the back of the couch, Frannie tucked underneath her arm, fingers woven through the puppy's collar. A trace of the phone's GPS should confirm Amanda was nowhere near the scene at the time of the murder, but had the possibility to expose her to other charges and...

...oh god. The toxicology panel. Amanda had to be well over the legal limit last night, and if the murder charges are just a pretext to go fishing...

Olivia thinks she's going to be sick.

But when the crime scene tech comes out of the room carrying her service weapon, Olivia goes irate.

"I had possession of my gun all night last night," Olivia argues with the tech bagging her Glock, shoving her badge in his face. "I'm a lieutenant at New York's Special Victim's Unit. I can have my chief call and verify my identity." Not that she's ever going to be able to explain this to him, nor does she really want to imagine such a conversation.

"Orders ma'am." The tech says apologetically, and Olivia sits down, watching as they finish violating their privacy, leaving her standing alone in the middle of a whirlwind of destruction.

There's a tenative knock at the door, Olivia's head whipping around, thinking that Matt or CSU has returned.

"Can we help you?" Katie is standing in the doorway with Stephanie and Emily in tow, her shocked green eyes surveying the damage the CSU team did in such a short period of time. Olivia stares at her wordlessly, trying to process her shock over the events of the past hour.

Has it really only been an hour since she's held Amanda?

"Girls, why don't you go clean up in the rooms so Olivia and I can talk?" Katie's direction is softly spoken, but firm, and while Emily rushes off immediately, taking a moment to say hello to the whining Frannie, Stephanie is more subdued, studying Olivia sadly before wordlessly following her sister.

"I feel like I should apologize for all of this," Katie murmurs, closing the door to the suite, picking up an overturned chair. "It was my husband that started all of this."

"I take it you heard?" Olivia is still looking at the crumpled warrant in her hand, studying the print as if it's another language entirely.

Katie nods. "Tell me what I can do to help."

Olivia sets Frannie on the floor, the puppy scampering away to where the girls are cleaning. She opens her eyes, meeting Katie's concerned orbs. "I need to make some calls, but if this makes it to trial, Emily may need to testify."

Katie is understandably hesitant, but she nods, troubled green eyes studying her youngest daughter. "I knew that was a possibility. I- I would spare her that if I could, but I understand." Her eyes return to Olivia. "What else?"

She wants to ask Katie if she went back home, if _she_ killed her husband. At this point, Katie tops Olivia's suspect list. But before Olivia can ask Katie that question, she has to see if there's any security footage from the hotel. It wouldn't be good to tip her hand at this point, in the event that Katie really did kill Charlie.

Somewhere in one of the rooms the girls are squealing, laughing over Frannie's unseen antics, drawing equal but identical cringes from the two grown-ups at one particularly ear-splitting shriek. "Why don't you go make those calls," Katie reaches out, resting a hand gently on Olivia's forearm. "The girls and I will finish up in here and we'll keep an eye on Frannie while you help Amanda."

Olivia nods, snatching her cell phone, laptop, and car keys from the coffee table, stuffing them into her laptop bag. The amount of work that needs to be done is nearly insurmountable. With a grateful nod to Katie, Olivia makes her way to the hotel elevator.

The next few hours seem to pass all too quickly. Her first call is to her friend Baird Ellis in New York, pressing him for any references for a defense attorney licensed to practice law in Georgia. After reassuring him that she is not the one in trouble, and after answering a few questions about Amanda's situation, Baird promises Olivia his assistance. He returns her call a few minutes later with the name of a high-priced attorney in the Atlanta area.

"She's the best," Baird reassures her. When Olivia goes to ask about her retainer, concerned about coming up with the resources to fund Amanda's defense, Baird brushes her off.

"It's been taken care of," he assures her nonchalantly. "A favor for a friend. She'll be in touch."

Olivia swallows thickly, eyes glazed with grateful tears at the gesture. "Thank you, Baird. Thank you so much."

"I'm happy for you, Olivia," Baird says. Olivia can tell he's smiling on the other line. "Love suits you."

Her next call is to Fin. The last thing she wants to do is to violate Amanda's privacy, but she's going to need assistance clearing Amanda's name. Given the vendetta that Atlanta PD has against her girlfriend, Olivia wouldn't be surprised if bail was set punitively high, if it's granted at all. Olivia's managed to put away some money away during her time with NYPD, but she's still a public servant in one of the most expensive cities in the country.

Once Olivia tells him what happened to his partner, Fin swears for a solid two minutes, including throwing out some explicatives she's never heard before.

"Yeah, I'm pretty certain that's illegal in the lower forty-eight," Olivia cuts in. "Look, I know I don't have to tell you to keep this conversation between us, but the reason I'm calling is because I really need your eyes."

"I'll be there tomorrow morning at the latest," Fin replies, and Olivia can hear shuffling in the background. "You want me to tell Dodds what's up?"

Olivia closes her eyes briefly. At this stage it's almost inevitable that her entire team will learn she's in Atlanta. Not having any family in Atlanta, the detectives will quickly make the connection to Rollins and then...

And yet, the only thing that she can see is the vacant look in Amanda's eyes when she was ushered away.

"Let me talk with him," Olivia says, walking towards the sedan, laptop bag slung over her shoulder, pulling her cell phone closer to hear over the sounds of midday traffic.

Chief Dodds always said she had a shitty sense of self-preservation.

After a few moments of silence, Dodds picks up the phone. "Hey Lieutenant, what's up?" the voice of her second-in-command crackles with static.

"Look, Mike, there's no really easy way to say this, so I'm just going to level with you," she leans against the car door, tugging the sides of her coat around her body. "I am in Atlanta with Amanda. She has a younger cousin that ran away from home and showed up on her doorstep in the middle of the night. It turns out Amanda's uncle was abusing this girl's little sister."

"Al...right," Dodds is clearly confused. "So what's going on?"

"We did a close job and stashed the two girls and the mom," Olivia continues. "But someone killed the uncle, and Atlanta PD is trying to pin it on Rollins. They just picked her up." Olivia pauses, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat and wrapping her arm around her stomach. "They're setting her up, Mike – maybe as payback for Patton, I'm not sure."

There's a long pause. "Why would they do this?"

Olivia laughs mirthlessly. "I have no idea Dodds, and believe me when I find out who's responsible I'm going to nail them to the wall." She sighs, opening the car door and tossing her laptop bag into the passenger seat, tucking a strand of hair that's escaped her bun behind her ear. It's modestly warmer inside the car, and Olivia takes care to close the door and turn the car on so it can start heating. She swallows, eyes drifting closed, knowing this next part will take every ounce of strength she's got left.

"There's uh," she hesitates, "there's something I need to tell you. Something about me and Rollins that you might..." she exhales shakily. "Rollins and I... we got... involved shortly after she moved up here from Atlanta."

She stops there, waiting.

"You... and Rollins." Mike repeats without change in tone or inflection, and Olivia can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing.

Olivia runs a hand through her hair, her heartrate spiking, her pulse pounding, blood rushing in her ears. Her hands are shaking so badly she can barely hang onto the phone. "Yeah – it began when we were both detectives. Off and on, mostly, until recently." Her lower lip quivers slightly, throat clogged with emotion. "She didn't do this. I saw the expression on her face when they told her what had happened. She was completely shocked – and was practically catatonic when they dragged her away."

Olivia swipes errantly at a tear, irritated that she's crying now, at a time like this. Afraid at what Mike's silence might mean. "Mike, she's the only family I got."

There's nothing more she can possibly say, nothing more that she can possibly do. Olivia's acutely aware that she may have just torpedoed her own career. Rubbing her hands across her face, she balances her elbow on the driver's side armrest, waiting for Mike to say something, anything, good or bad.

"What do you need?"

Olivia releases a shaky breath, an audible gasp escaping her scratchy throat. Another tear snakes its way down her cheek. "Let me have Fin for a couple of days. I need a set of fresh eyes at the crime scene," assuming she can even gain access to the crime scene, "and if possible we need to find the actual murder weapon."

It's fishing for a needle in a damn big haystack, but it's the only thing she has right now.

"You got it, Lieutenant," Dodd's response allows her to breath a sigh of relief, Olivia whispering a silent prayer of thanks.

"Thanks, Dodds. And about Rollins..."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

* * *

The last time Olivia Benson lost control of her anger, she nearly beat a man to death with an iron bar. To this day, she can still hear William Lewis' screams as she unleashed four days worth of anger and frustration into his handcuffed body. She's still not entirely sure what Murphy said to the grand jury that investigated her — but she swore to herself she would never lose control like that again.

Olivia Benson has never broken an oath, not to herself, not to another person, and with the lone exception of when she retaliated against William Lewis, not even her oath as a police officer.

So as she strides purposefully through Atlanta's eighth precinct with an axe to grind, it's saying something that they're lucky she's not armed with anything more than her fists and some righteous anger. She moves through the squad room of Atlanta's Special Victims Unit, the shocked gazes of a room full of men following her, the crowd in front of her silently parting like she is Moses.

Sam Reynolds seems equally leery and surprised when she enters his office, and seeing that it's empty, Olivia closes the door, takes the seat in front of his desk, crosses her legs and arms, pinning him with a deadly glare.

Sam frowns, forehead wrinkling in confusion. "Lieutenant Benson, what are you...?"

Olivia raises a hand, pinning him with an look that tells him if he doesn't shut up she'll feed him his own testicles for a snack.

Sam wisely decides to heed that advice.

"I have seen," Olivia pauses, willing some self-control into her body, her shoulders shaking in anger, "many things in my years as a police officer." She inhales shakily. "But framing one of my detectives for murder is low, even for you."

There's a moment, the barest fragment of a second, when she sees something that she recognizes, something she sees that makes her heart begin to pound in her chest as she contemplate the implications.

Captain Reynolds has no idea what she's talking about.

"What the hell do you think you're talking about?" Sam leans forward, face darkening, vein on his forehead starting to pulsate. "Your squad had our deputy chief added to the registry!"

"Your deputy chief had himself added to the registry, which is what happens when someone pleads guilty to sex abuse three and you know it," Olivia leans forward, resting her forearms on the chair and all but daring him to contradict her.

"Both you and I damn well know Patton banged anything that was young, blonde, and fresh out of the academy and you're smart enough to know that if Reese Taymore's injuries showed up in any of _your_ vics you'd be out drinking with the boys case closed by five o'clock. Rollins practically had to be strong-armed into giving us any assistance during that case, which is why I can't for the life of me figure out why your homicide department even knew she was in town and is framing her for a murder she's got an alibi for!"

Or which she will have an alibi for, once Olivia confirms it with the bar where Amanda was last night.

The corner of Sam's upper lip tugs upwards in a nasty sneer. "Is that a professional assessment or a personal one, _Lieutenant_?"

Olivia's teeth slam shut, pupils dilating as she leans forward. Her lips curl into a smile, taking almost a sick sense of delight in the way Sam twists in his chair, moving back almost the same distance Olivia leans forward.

"Okay, _Captain_ , let's get _personal_ ," Olivia leans even further forward, rising to her feet, resting her palms on his desk. "If I thought for a moment that Detective Rollins actually killed Charles Beckett I'd have taken her in myself," she lowers her head, "but if you think I will let anyone in this precinct railroad an innocent person to save _my_ reputation then _you_ are sadly mistaken." She lets out a low, harsh bark of laughter. "And this I absolutely promise you — if you or anyone in this squad harms Amanda because their panties got twisted over a bruised ego..." she drops her head... "I. Will. End. The. Person. Responsible."

And then she smiles, daring him to fuck with her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: I wanted to try to get this out since I didn't post an update last weekend. The next chapter won't be coming out until this next weekend. Hopefully after that we'll be on track. Special thanks to my readers and reviewers - you all inspire me.**

* * *

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 16**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

Sitting in ADSEG, Amanda Rollins tries to contemplate whether it's better to kill herself now or wait for the lethal cocktail later.

It took everything she had to hold it together through the booking process, ignoring the stares of her former coworkers and colleagues while she was photographed and fingerprinted.

By the time it came to being strip-searched, she'd hit her breaking point.

Travers insisted on accompanying her through the entire process, taking a sick sense of pleasure in the tears that rolled down her cheeks, the way her shoulders shook silently. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out why he was taking such a twisted sense of pleasure in her humiliation.

Until they arrived in GENPOP.

 _Wrenching her arm painfully, Travers lowers his mouth to Amanda's right ear, fingers gripping her arm tightly enough to bruise. His warm breath burns against her ear, his harsh whisper causing her heart to stop._

" _Charles Patton is my godfather, you stupid slut. He sends his regards, and told me to tell you he's got a front row ticket for when they stick that needle in your arm."_

 _Shoving Amanda into the cell with a group of about twenty women, Travers stares at her with a sort of sadistic glee._

"Brought you a present, ladies – Detective Amanda Rollins."

 _Then he closes the door._

Amanda wishes they had just ended her suffering.

It took three minutes for the guards to pull them off of her. Three minutes on the ground, curled into a ball, shielding her head and neck after the first sucker punch dropped her.

Afterwards, they threw her into ADSEG.

Her entire body aching, Amanda spent her first hour in solitary curled into a ball on the thin, threadbare mattress, sobbing silently into the sheets.

Now, she barely lifts her eyes at the harsh grating of metal on metal, only turning her head when one of the guards barks her name.

"Rollins, time to move. Let's roll."

It takes every last ounce of energy she has to roll to her side, stumbling to the door and inserting her hands through the slot, staring despondently as the corrections officer slips the cuffs onto her wrists.

Amanda steps back, and when she emerges the blonde watches as her feet are shackled to her hands. Earlier, when she passed the search, she was given a worn orange jumpsuit and a pair of socks and cheap plastic sandals, but it's still winter in Atlanta and this jail is freezing.

"Let's go." She doesn't bother to learn their names, and it makes her feel a little guilty. She should care more about being friendly with the people in charge of her general well-being. But the only thing that she can think about besides ending it all is the look on Olivia's face when they hauled her out of her hotel room.

Hers was the last friendly face she saw, and she wants to commit it to memory.

The county jail is a maze, a mixture of concrete and iron, and before long she's turned around. After a seeming eternity she's deposited to in empty room that's got little more than four white walls, a table, and a couple of rickety chairs that are scuffed and dented from years of abuse.

She assumes that her legal aide has arrived, since she doesn't have the money for a decent criminal defense attorney.

Until the door opens and in walks Olivia Benson.

Amanda heart skips a beat when the brunette pauses just inside the door, her brown eyes suspiciously bright, hand slapping over her mouth in shock.

"Liv?" Amanda can barely believe it's real, here of all places. Olivia's still wearing the same outfit she was wearing earlier in the hotel room and there are some dark smudges under her eyes, likely from lack of sleep or exhaustion.

But it _is_ Olivia Benson.

"Oh my god, Amanda, what happened?" The brunette takes two huge strides across the room, wrapping Amanda in a hug that's almost suffocating, the blonde grabbing Olivia's sides, fingers curling into her shirt because the handcuffs won't let her reach any further.

"I'm here," is all Olivia says to trigger a violent sob, and Amanda buries her face into Olivia's chest to muffle the sounds. "It's going to be alright, sweetheart. We're going to get through this, I promise."

Olivia's face is buried in her hair, silent tears streaking down her cheeks, and the brunette whispers comforting reassurances that travel no further than their own ears.

"I can't do this again, Liv," Amanda's not sure if Olivia can hear her given how tightly her face is pressed into her shoulder, but the question is answered a moment later when Olivia ushers her to a seat, pulling the second one right next to her, wrapping an arm around the younger woman.

"You're not going to have to. We're going to find out who's responsible for this," Olivia soothes, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of Amanda's head. Gently, Olivia takes her chin between her thumb and forefinger, gingerly turning her head to examine the purplish-blue bruising around the blonde's left eye. "Amanda, what happened to you?"

"Travers," Amanda grimaces as Olivia's fingertips trace over a cut on her cheek. There's a deep worry behind the brunette's gaze, the older woman's lips pursing in concern. "Turns out he's Patton's godson. Told the inmates I was a detective."

Olivia swears, the brunette's arm tightens around her shoulders. "What did they do to you, Amanda?"

"Just knocked me around a little, Liv." The last thing she wants to do is worry Olivia, even though it's a bit late to be thinking about that. Amanda closes her eyes when Olivia's lips brush her forehead, the pads of her fingertips caressing her cheeks. "It doesn't hurt," she says quietly, blue eyes focusing on the graffiti etched into the tabletop, trying to soothe the older woman.

"Don't lie to me," Olivia chastises, her voice firm, two fingertips sliding under Amanda's chin, forcing the blonde to meet her gaze, cocoa orbs meeting cerulean pools. "Amanda..."

Amanda captures her lower lip between her teeth, glancing away. Eyes darting to the metal doorway, she reaches up and quickly unbuttons the few buttons of her jumpsuit, stopping about mid chest and tugging it aside.

"I'm going to kill him," Olivia mutters, brown eyes flicking to the bruises that were scattered across her torso. "Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry." Olivia captures Amanda's hands within her own, her eyes flashing with a fiery anger. "No one is going to lay a finger on you ever again."

She wishes she can believe Olivia. Amanda's throat clogs, thick with emotion, fingertips curling into the fabric of Olivia's shirt, inhalling the spicy sweet scent of Olivia's perfume, the smell of comfort, of evenings spent snuggled on the sofa.

But then again, Olivia is here. Against all odds.

In the county lockup.

While Amanda is supposed to be in administrative segregation.

"I don't understand, how did you get here?" Amanda swipes her hands at her cheeks, sniffing as she tries to clear her nose.

"I had a little talk with your former captain," Olivia smiles, tracing the backs of her fingers against Amanda's cheekbones. "My balls were bigger."

Amanda half laughs, half sobs, her hand covering her mouth as she blinks back tears. "I'm not sure I want to know."

"Probably not," Olivia reaches up and wipes the tears under her own reddened eyes. "Other than the obvious, how are you holding up?"

Amanda looks to the ground, unable to meet Olivia's gaze. How do you tell someone you love that all you want is for the pain to end?

"Amanda, I want you to listen to me," Olivia captures her chin and meets her gaze. "You have people from New York to Atlanta working on getting you out and clearing your name." The blonde begins to shake her head but Olivia stops her. "No, I mean it. You already have the best defense attorney in the state on retainer, Fin is on his way down, TARU is searching the hard drive, and I have everyone in our department along with your friend Matt from Homicide trying to find the real killer."

"I didn't do it Liv," Amanda shakes her head, blinking hard against tears. It's hard to feel hopeful when so much is stacked against her. "I didn't do it."

Olivia cups her cheek, capturing her lips in an impassioned kiss, resting her temple against Amanda's and capturing the back of that sweet blonde head. "I know that. And everyone else who knows you believes you, sweetheart." She tips her head, brown eyes meeting blue. "And when we clear your name, you, me, and Frannie are going to go back to New York and we're going to move to my place because your closets are too damn small for both of our wardrobes..."

Olivia grabs her hands when Amanda unsuccessfully tries to hold back a sob, brown eyes searching. "And we're going to make a life together, Amanda." She kisses their clasped hands. "That is what I want you to hang onto during these next few hours. Okay? That is what you hold in your mind."

Amanda nods, sniffing as she passes the back of her sleeve under her nose. It seems like all she does anymore is cry and she hates it. She takes one deep, shuddering breath after another until she has some composure and can speak. "So Fin is coming?" Wondering how their unit can at all spare the loss of another detective when they are already so short staffed.

Olivia nods, "Queens is sending a few warm bodies to help with the case load in the mean time. Dodds and Carisi are holding down the fort. They'll be fine for the next week or so."

Amanda's head drops, blue eyes tracing along a meandering crack in the concrete floor. "Do they know?"

The brunette's features soften, resting her forearms on her thighs and taking Amanda's handcuffed hands between her own. "I didn't have much choice but to be honest about why I came to Atlanta." Amanda looks away. "Sweetheart, I tried to be as light on the details as possible, but honey, they don't care. And as far as the brass goes I don't give a damn. You are my priority now. If they think someone else can run the unit better they're welcome to try. Dodds joins the Joint Terrorism Task Force in less than a month and Fin won't take the sergeant's exam, much less the position."

Amanda looks back at Olivia. Just when she thinks she can't love this woman any more, Olivia finds a way to prove her wrong. "You said I have an attorney?"

Olivia nods, "some lady named Vanessa Hardwick." Amanda's eyes open wide, startling. Olivia isn't kidding — Vanessa is the best defense attorney in the state — they'd had quite a few cases against her when she was working down here and not one of them had resulted in a conviction.

"Liv," Amanda whispers, a little awestruck, and a little worried at just how non-chalantly Olivia seems to be talking about hiring an attorney of Hardwick's caliber, "how can you afford..."

"I didn't need to," Olivia says, though it's understood that she would have sold her right kidney to pay Vanessa's retainer if it was necessary. "I made a few calls. Called in a couple of favors. She couldn't make it today because of her work schedule but you'll see her in the morning at arraignment. I filled her in." A pause, then apologetically, "I had to tell her everything, even the abuse. I'm sorry, but I wanted her to have all the facts."

Amanda kisses her forehead, burying her face in the chestnut tendrils and breathing in a sigh of gratitude. "I don't know how you do it, Liv. But thank you." Olivia must have been working nonstop since she had been arrested.

Olivia nods, pressing her forehead into Amanda's shoulder, kissing it lightly. The brunette's eyes are spiderwebbed with blood-filled capillaries, weighed down by a heavy weariness. "Can I ask you a few questions, baby? I know you've had a long day, but we need to work quickly here." The younger woman nods. "First things first, I need for you to retrace your steps for me, any people you talked to, any places you were at, every little detail is important."

Amanda swallows, going into her detective mode, relying on her exceptional recall to revisit a day she'd just as soon forget. "After we left the precinct, I dropped you off at," she closes her eyes, remembering, "at 1:12 p.m. It takes one hour to get to my mother's house. I was there at 2:30 p.m. I left her house at 4 p.m. and came back to the city. I stopped at a liquor store at Peachtree road," her breath catches in her throat, eyes lowering in shame. "I was there about 15 minutes, so probably 5:30 p.m., maybe 6:00 p.m. Then I went to the casino," she looks away, biting her lower lip, guilt over her near-relapse tugging at her insides.

Olivia squeezes her hand, "It's fine. Where was this casino?"

"Warehouse on the outskirts of the city," Amanda gives Olivia the address. "I was outside of the warehouse for about an hour, drinking, thinking. Then I went to the bar around the corner and got sloshed. You know what time I got back to the hotel."

Olivia nods, pursing her lips, "do any of these places have cameras?"

Amanda frowns in concentration. "The bar and liquor store do. There are three outside of the casino. One of them should have the sedan on it." Amanda lifts her eyes. "I assume my own mother would alibi me." Her chest tightens, because in the corner of her mind, she actually wonders. "I hope."

Olivia reaches up, cupping the side of her cheek. "I know, sweetheart." Her hand falls. "Can you think of any reason why someone would do this? Anyone with a grudge?"

Only the entire Atlanta SVU unit. Amanda thinks, shaking her head. "Aside from the obvious, no." She frowns, "You said Matt is on _our_ side? Then why was he such a dick searching our hotel?"

"He said he's being watched," Olivia frowns. "From what I gather, he thinks that the order to frame you may have come from high up, maybe in homicide?"

"Homicide? But why?" Her voice breaks, and she clenches her jaw. "I didn't do anything to anyone at any of the other precincts here. When I left Atlanta I was on good terms with everyone except Patton. And even with him I..." _I was too afraid to face him, so I ran._

"We'll figure it out, sweetheart." A loud banging on the door cuts Olivia off before she can say another thing, both women looking at each other with trepidation.

Desperation began to fill Amanda's heart once more. There are so many unknowns right now, and the thought that this could be the last time she sees Olivia, touches Olivia, elicits a growing sense of panic. Amanda's breathing begins to quicken, her body starting to shake as she clings to Olivia's t-shirt like a lifeline.

"Hey," Olivia is rising to her feet, capturing Amanda's chin and drawing her focus. "This time tomorrow we will be together."

Assuming she can even make bail. She's being charged with capital murder. Those cases don't traditionally lend themselves to allowing bail.

"But..."

"Believe," Olivia squeezes her chin, those mocha orbs filled with a mixture of tenderness and pain. "I love you. Remember that. And I'll be right there behind you tomorrow."

The door opens just as Olivia drops her head for a kiss, hugging Amanda so tightly it's difficult to draw breath. Amanda grips Olivia's sides like a lifeline, because despite the reassurances she is afraid this may be the last time she gets to hold her like this.

"Time's up. Let go ladies," it's the same guard as before, and Amanda reluctantly releases Olivia, feeling the brunette's own reluctance pulling away.

"I love you," Amanda whispers, feeling the hand reach around her bicep. If only they had more time.

"I love you too, Amanda," Olivia echoes as Amanda is tugged from the room, the heavy steel door slamming shut on her only lifeline to the free world.

It's a long, lonely walk back to her cell, her cerulean orbs leveled at the floor as she shuffles along. There is still a sense of shocked disbelief that Olivia was somehow able to secure an unsupervised face-to-face visit. Amanda wonders what she said to Sam to make him pull those strings.

By the time they reach her cell, the lights are dimmed, and Amanda places her hands against the wall while the leg chains are removed, then her handcuffs are removed once she steps inside and the door is closed. Amanda glances around her tiny cell, wistfully studying the monotonous cream-colored walls and paper-thin mattress.

The blonde sighs deeply, laying down on the bed and curling into the fetal position, trying to remember the feeling of being safely enveloped in Olivia's arms.

Afraid that a memory is all that it will ever be.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Well, I survived the week only to make it to an even busier weekend. I know, first world problems, right? Well, I've got it in me to post one chapter tonight so I thought I'd kick off the weekend with a bang. I finished the next chapter of need - I need to edit it though and then work on the next edits for Stand. Somewhere in there I have to send a bunch of formal letters FedEx-ed to the great Dental Jury in the sky, squeeze in a workout and meeting in, and if I somehow have the energy - clean the damn house. Because the puppies won't do it for me. Lazy bums.**

 **Each review you send me sends 25 cents into my Roomba fund. That, in turn, gives me more time to write. See where this is going?**

 **This chapter is dedicated to the fuzzy monkey my little Skunky pup dragged into the bedroom. At least it doesn't make noises.**

* * *

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 17**

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

The courtroom is filled to capacity, a mixture of reporters and police officers, members of the local business community and curious onlookers, broken up between the two sides. It is different, sitting on the other end of the courtroom – the defendent's side. Olivia is so used to backing the prosecution, she almost has to pinch herself to believe this is happening.

Beside her, Fin sits stoically, his arms crossed in front of his chest, dark eyes glaring at the prosecution's table and at the members of Atlanta PD joking around on that side of the courtroom. Olivia understands this — simmering beneath the surface is this low-lying anger that they are even here. Amanda doesn't deserve this, and Olivia wants to tear apart everyone responsible for this farce of an arraignment.

Amanda is less than six feet away, pale and in a grey suit, tugging with her right index finger at the collar of the pink shirt that Olivia bought her the previous evening. They didn't bring appropriate courtroom attire, not having anticipated needing anything during this trip, but she'd be damned if she let Amanda wear her prison jumpsuit to a courthouse appearance like some random perp. The blonde has light makeup on which doesn't quite cover the bruising and dark circles underneath her eyes, and her blonde hair is carefully brushed. She still looks pensive, drawn, like she hasn't slept all night, not all that different from Olivia herself.

"Which one of these sonofabitches is responsible for Rollins?" Fin is glaring daggers at the different officers, his upper lip curling in anger. He couldn't bring his sidearm into the courtroom, and dressed in a black dress shirt and slacks he could pass for a regular civilian, but Olivia knows that if Fin wills it Travers will be dead by the end of court today.

"A guy named Travers did it – he's Patton's godson – but Rollins and I didn't bring you down here to play hitman, Fin," Olivia is wearing a black suit with a dressy blue shirt, the matching blazer keeping her warm in the cooler courtroom. Her own hair tumbles gently in waves over her shoulders — Olivia is determined that NYPD be well-represented today.

"I didn't say anything about hitting anyone," Fin says non-chalantly, stretching his fingers out and cracking his knuckles. "I just wanted to know which asshole is responsible."

"Fin..."

Fin holds his hands out. "A'ight, just don't be surprised if both of them end up in the emergency room after all this is over."

"Just don't let it be traced back to you," Olivia warns him, turning her attention back to Amanda and her attorney, Vanessa Hardwick.

Hardwick is impeccably dressed in a dark pencil skirt and matching suit jacket. Her dark red hair is styled in shoulder-length layers, bangs falling to mid-forehead. A stack of folders is neatly organized in front of her, the attorney and Amanda talking quietly at the defense table.

Olivia spoke with Vanessa earlier, and despite the redhead's reassurances that Amanda would get out on bail and that they'd get these ridiculous charges dropped, Olivia is dubious. She's seen too many trials go awry to trust the system without reservation. And with Fin here, there are now a grand total of three people people in Atlanta she feels like she can trust.

Dark brown eyes skim past the defense table to the prosecutor, a smug-looking asshole with medium brown hair and a face full of freckles. He's talking and joking with Travers and another pair of detectives, and Olivia has an overwhelming urge to ignore her own good advice and unleash the full weight of her wrath on them. She tries to remind herself that those other two detectives are just doing their jobs, but it is hard, oh so hard, to remember.

"All rise," the bailiff calls, "for the honorable Dan Stevens is presiding." Olivia's lips purse together, fingers steepling in front of her face as the judge arrives, sitting when directed and silently willing this hearing to go their way. In addition to his sleuthing skills, Fin also bought collective collateral to serve for Amanda's bail.

Assuming she's even allowed out on bail.

"Docket number 258250 The people versus Amanda Rollins, one count murder in the first, one count breaking and entering, one count burglary, one count aggravated assault. How do you plead?"

Amanda flinches as every charge is read. Olivia's fingernails dig into the palm of her hands with each minute shudder of the blonde's shoulders – the prosecution is reaching on this case to begin with, but breaking and entering? Burglary? Aggravated assault _and_ a murder charge? It's like a dart board – throw a bunch of charges out and see what sticks.

"Not guilty, your honor," Vanessa's voice is a rich alto – calm, controlled, well-practiced. "These allegations are absolutely baseless and I'm surprised the prosecution is even bothering to try this case."

"Alright, Ms. Hardwick, I'd like to remind you opening arguments will be made at trial." The judge looks to the prosecutorial table. "I'd like to hear the people on bail."

The ADA rose to his feet, "Remand, your honor. Given the especially heinous nature of these crimes..."

"...that she did not commit..." Vanessa interjects.

The prosecutor throws a dirty look towards their end of the courtroom. "And given the fact that the defendant is not a resident of the state and has the resources to flee, the state believes the defendant is best incarcerated until trial."

"Your honor," Vanessa rises to her feet, "Detective Rollins is a highly decorated police officer with an impeccable service record in two states, including her home state of Georgia. She has no criminal history, and not only does she have family here and strong ties to the community, her lieutenant is here to personally guarantee her presence at trial. Furthermore, Detective Rollins was assaulted while in the state's custody when a detective from this city's police department threw her into general population and announced she was a police officer. The prosecution is overreaching at best, conspiring with the Atlanta PD against my client at worst."

"Now wait a minute..." The ADA jumps to his feet, vein popping out on the side of his forehead.

"Counselors, I'd like to remind you that opening arguments will begin next week, this is just the bail hearing," the judge's dry voice cut off any further argument. "Given that that the defendant has no criminal record but taking into nature the serious nature of these crimes bail is set at five hundred thousand dollars cash or bond, court adjourned."

Amanda's shoulders fall, her face burying into her hands as Vanessa leans over to whisper reassurances to the blonde detective. Olivia swallows, glancing over to Fin with troubled eyes before leaning over the railing and touching her hand to Amanda's shuddering back.

"We've got it covered," Olivia whispers reassuringly, running her fingers through the blonde tresses. Having to come up with ten percent of the bond, or fifty thousand dollars is no joke, and it would take the very last of their pooled resources to pay for it, but the brunette is adamant that Amanda not spend another second behind bars.

Amanda turns her head, her face red and soaked with tears. "Olivia where are we going to get that kind of money?"

"Hey, 'Manda," Fin is standing beside Liv, his dark eyes filled with concern, pressing his balled-up fists against the railing. "It's covered. Don't sweat it." He turns to Olivia, "I'm gonna go take care of the bail. Meet you outside?" Olivia nods.

Vanessa smiles, pulling out a stack of motions from her briefcase. "This is where I get to give the prosecutor an early Christmas. I'll see you out in the hallway." With a smile that looks entirely too happy for a capital murder trial, the attorney makes her way to the other end of the courtroom.

Those aching blue eyes are moving between Olivia and Fin, confusion evident as ghey follow the taller man out of the room, darting back to the brunette. "How...?"

Olivia smiles, reaching out and wiping the tears from Amanda's cheeks, not really giving a damn who sees it. "Honey, everyone pitched in what they could — me, Fin, Carisi, Dodds, Nick, even Munch and the Captain." Her head lowers, brown eyes trying to garner Amanda's focus. "You have friends in a lot of places, sweetheart."

Amanda covers her face with her hands, and Olivia can tell by the tension in her shoulders she's trying hard to regain her composure. Olivia swallows, tucking a Kleenex into the younger woman's hand and pushes to her feet.

"Let's get out of here, shall we?"

* * *

It takes a little longer than expected to get Amanda free on bail — for one, she has to return to the prison for her belongings, so it is closer to 3:00 p.m. before she is released into Olivia's custody. Originally, the plan was to regroup at lunch and discuss strategy, but Olivia suggests a late dinner instead, which all parties agree on.

Hand in hand, Olivia and Amanda drive back to their hotel, silently making their way up the elevator and down the hallway to their suite.

For most of the drive home, and during most of the walk to the room, Olivia keeps stealing glances at Amanda, the blonde's emotionless mask carefully in place, walls of iron and concrete carefully protecting her heart. Olivia is worried Amanda may be setting herself up for a larger breakdown later, but she doesn't try to pursue it. For one, she's not certain the blonde detective would allow it, and secondly, she's not sure she can contain her own anger and pain over the events of the last few days.

There is muffled sound of cartoons emanating from behind the door across the hall, and Olivia guides the blonde through the door, Frannie's excited barking filling the room, reminding them that there is some joy and happiness to be had in this life.

"There she is," Olivia smiles, opening the crate door, letting the puppy beeline towards Amanda. The blonde's mouth twitches, not quite smiling, but leaning down to scoop up the puppy, burying her face in the soft fur and inhaling deeply.

"She missed you," Olivia says quietly, the brunette moving closer to Amanda and cautiously touching her back. She's not entirely sure how to provide comfort here, torn between wanting to hold Amanda and afraid that to do so might violate some sacred boundary.

Amanda doesn't respond, leaving Olivia to shift back and forth between her feet. What she really wants to do is take Amanda into the room and make love and keep her safe for eternity. But with Amanda's injuries and the blonde's mental status, Olivia is resigned to the fact that it could be a long, long time before Amanda recovers from this.

"Do you need something for the pain?" Olivia picked up some pain relievers from the pharmacy on her way home last evening, anticipating Amanda returning to the hotel room today. She's relieved that bail was granted, though she has to guiltily admit that Amanda's beating probably tipped the scales.

She's grateful Baird recommended Vanessa – she liked her as much as she liked any criminal defense attorney. She knew her stuff. Olivia hopes her trust isn't misplaced.

Amanda shakes her head, taking a step back and leaning into Olivia's chest, bringing Frannie up to her nose, inhaling once more. Olivia's arm slips around the blonde, taking care not to hold her too tightly, afraid she could hurt Amanda.

"What would you like to do?" It's what Olivia would want, after having that choice taken from her — the freedom to choose.

"I want to lay down and rest," Amanda mumbles, breaking her silence, her red-rimmed eyes finally raising to meet Olivia's. "You, me, and Frannie."

Olivia nods, following the younger woman into the room. She'd taken the time to clean up in here after the crime scene team had torn it apart. She is still pissed that they took her gun – and awaiting word from Matt on when she'll get it back. But at least she'd folded the clothes strewn around the rooms, rearranged the toiletries, and made the beds.

It was all she'd been able to do until Fin arrived.

Olivia slips out of her heels, groaning at the feel of the carpet against her stockinged feet. Taking her suit jacket off and hanging it carefully in the closet, she unbuttons her blouse, hanging it up, repeating the action with her pants. Finally peeling her pantyhose down, she's about to reach for the drawer to pull out something comfortable enough to sleep in when she hears a soft, "No."

Looking over her shoulder, she can see Amanda slipping her panties down her legs, those blue eyes leveled on Olivia with need.

"Please," Amanda intercedes softly. "I just need to feel your skin against mine."

Olivia studies her for a moment, ready to talk Amanda out of it, but the look in Amanda's eyes isn't of lust. She purses her lips together, eyes skimming over the assorted bruises and marks that litter the blonde's body.

"Please, Liv," Amanda repeats quietly, tossing Frannie onto the bed, blue eyes searching Olivia's.

"Okay," Olivia nods, conceding that Amanda's needs are paramount. Reaching behind her back to unhook her bra, the brunette lets it hit the floor, followed by her underwear, slipping into bed with the blonde, silently savoring the feel of their arms intertwining, Amanda's head lying against the crook of her arm, her other hand grabbing her right hip as if Olivia is somehow going to disappear.

Frannie turns around in circles at the foot of the bed, finally circling into a ball at their feet. Amanda presses a kiss just below Olivia's collarbone, right where Lewis branded her with her own badge, and sighs.

"I thought I'd never get to do this again," Amanda whispers, after a time. "I thought the very last time I'd ever hold you was in chains."

Olivia traces her fingers along the smooth flesh of Amanda's back, coming to brush against the slightly puckered scar where Amanda had been shot a few years ago.

"I know," the brunette says finally. "I was terrified — I can't imagine how scared you must have been."

Amanda purses her lips, and for a moment Olivia thinks she can hear her crying. But when the blonde speaks again, her voice is clear. "What am I going to do?"

" _We_ are going to clear your name," Olivia says softly. "And then we are going to go back to New York and see about getting you moved into my apartment. Yours is too damn small for the three of us."

There it is, spoken again. Olivia waits to see what Amanda's response is, a little worried that the blonde may think it's too much, too soon. Especially given her fiercely independent streak.

But if there's anything Olivia has come to see in all this it's that time is precious and there are no guarantees.

Amanda kisses her side, her eyes fluttering closed. She mumbles something against Olivia's side. Something that sounds an awful lot like _"At least 'til we have kids."_

And she smiles.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: Part One of the holidays - check! I must have gained a million pounds on a blueberry cheesecake that I'm pretty sure I had at least half of. So I'm at least partway to my goal, hah! Alright - so I have been trying to shake loose a little writer's block - outline is going very slow, but it is going.**

* * *

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 18**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

The darkness is disorienting.

For a moment, a fraction of a moment, she is afraid, convinced that she's back _there_. Then the gentle rise and fall of a bare chest catches her attention, a bare chest that is rising and falling in peaceful rhythm beneath her right cheek, reminding Amanda that she isn't in the prison — she's here, in the hotel, in Olivia's arms. She can hear the gentle thudding of Olivia's heartbeat against her right ear, and she listens to it, memorizing its steady rhythm, the thump-thump providing some solace.

She had been so close to losing _this_.

And that scares the _hell_ out of her.

Pressing a kiss to the crease where Olivia's arm meets her torso, Amanda rolls over carefully, tossing her left leg over Liv's hips. The brunette moans, sleepy brown eyes blinking as they struggle to focus on the woman straddling her. It's dark outside, the only light is from the streetlight positioned inconveniently close to the barely opened curtains.

"'Manda?" Olivia murmurs sleepily, hands instinctively moving to lightly rest on her hips. The blonde leans down, brushing her lips against the brunette's.

"Mmm..." Olivia moans into the leisurely kiss, her arms wrapping around the younger woman, fingernails scraping lightly up and down her bare back. Amanda traces her tongue over the soft flesh of Olivia's lower lip, nipping lightly at the tender skin, then plundering her mouth relentlessly when the brunette's lips part. Olivia's hips rock into the blonde's involuntarily, her fingers tightening around Amanda's hips, the latter's eyes slipping shut.

So close to losing _this_...

"Amanda," Olivia draws away, albeit reluctantly, resting her forehead against the blonde's temple, eyelids closed, her lips only a few inches away from Amanda's cheek. "I think we should talk about what happened."

"Olivia," those blue eyes slip open, meeting the brunette's concerned expression. "Help me forget." Olivia's mouth twists doubtfully, her body tensing. "At least for a little while," Amanda's voice hitches in her throat, her shoulders shuddering, remembering the nightmare of being all alone in that prison cell. If she's convicted and sentenced to death row or life in prison... "Please," she pleads, "just for a little while help me forget."

Olivia reaches up with her right hand, turning on the small, tabletop lamp on her side of the bed, tilting her head back and studying Amanda with concern.

"Amanda, look like you went through twelve rounds with a prizefighter."

"Liv, it doesn't hurt." Okay, so it doesn't hurt _much_. But with the way her luck has been as of late – she's not sure she counts on herself surviving long enough to make it to trial.

Olivia's tongue traces over her own lower lip, as if remembering what it feels like to be pressed against Amanda's. Those cocoa colored eyes look away, her instincts warring with her desires.

Amanda lowers her body onto Olivia's, shuddering at the touch of skin on skin, the hardened points of her nipples dragging across the olive skin. "Just for a little bit."

Olivia's eyes shift back to Amanda's, her hands sliding up and down her naked back, reaching down to cup her ass, massaging and squeezing the firm flesh. "Come here," she tugs Amanda back down, both women gasping at the slide of skin against skin. Amanda isn't entirely sure who kisses who, but when their lips join, the blonde releases a throaty moan. Her lips work softly against the woman beneath her, tasting, touching, her tongue circling and twining around the other woman's.

Olivia's hands slide up her ribs, tracing over the bruised flesh, grabbing and squeezing those creamy globes she's so fond of, tracing her thumbs over pert nipples, careful not to aggravate any of those injuries that are so very fresh.

"I'm going to roll us over, _gently_ ," Olivia whispers between kisses, giving Amanda a chance to protest and, when she doesn't, gently rolls so that she's hovering just barely over the blonde. Olivia begins to trail kisses down her jaw, licking and sucking along the pale skin.

"If you give me another hickey..." Amanda warns, little heat behind her words. Right now she could care less if Olivia gave her another hickey, if that's the only memory she's going to have of her lover then she'll gladly take it.

"You'll what? You already look like an eggplant." Olivia teases, suckling along her neck, right where her carotid pulsates. Amanda's hands have resumed their position behind Olivia's back, one hand sliding up to gentle cradle her shoulder blades, the other massaging her ass, "is this okay?"

"Are you seriously mocking me right now?" Amanda ignores the pull in her side as she arches into Olivia's touch, the blonde moaning when the older woman rakes her teeth across a prominent collarbone. "God, Liv, I..." Amanda cries out, arching into Olivia's touch when the brunette's hand trails through moist heat, her eyes opening to join Liv's when two fingers past that tight band of muscle and into her core, both women halting their motions temporarily, just drinking in the sight of one another.

"I thought I lost you," Olivia whispers, her hand stilling, trailing the backs of her free fingertips across the younger woman's cheekbone. A tear slips out of the corner of the brunette's eye, plopping onto Amanda's cheek.

Amanda trails her fingers through Olivia's thick locks, cradling the brunette's face between her palms and kissing her softly. "With me," she whispers, her right hand gliding between Olivia's breasts, down her stomach, down through soft curls and sinking into the brunette's heat, both women gasping out their shared pleasure.

Ever-so-slowly, Amanda pulls her fingers out, Olivia mimicking her motions of thrusts and counter-thrusts, slick warmth warring with obvious arousal. Their bodies undulate lightly against each other in time with their hands, Olivia's nostrils flaring with the scent of Amanda's arousal and vise versa.

Amanda curls her fingers, hooking her index finger into the spot she know will drive Olivia wild, the heel of her hand rubbing against her aroused nub, gliding against the sensitive skin. Amanda hooks her leg around the brunette's body while Olivia adds a third finger inside the blonde, stretching her, filling her completely. Olivia shudders, her free hand's nails digging into Amanda's back, a cry of pleasure escaping her throat. Moments later, Amanda joins her, crying out her ecstasy into the silence of their hotel room.

After a small eternity, their motions stop, both women coming to rest on each other, sweat-slicked bodies intertwined, chests heaving. Olivia presses a kiss against the side of Amanda's neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty skin. Then she kisses her shoulder, tongue darting out again, lapping up a droplet of sweat. Her teeth rake against Amanda's collar bone, moaning lightly when Amanda's fingers slip out of her body.

Olivia carefully eases her own digits out of the blonde, Amanda shuddering at the sudden loss of contact. The blonde's eyes follow the brunette's fingers as she brings them to her mouth, brown eyes level with Amanda's, those amazing lips wrapping around each individual digit and sucking on them.

It's one of the most erotic things she's ever seen, and every time Olivia does it, it never fails to make her wet.

"You taste exquisite," Olivia's lips brush her ear. "But I prefer the real thing." Amanda's heart starts racing as Olivia's hands slide across her body, cupping her breasts and thumbing her nipples. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, crying out at the pleasurable sensations, moaning as Olivia's lips glide across her shuddering skin.

Olivia's body slides down her own, the brunette's tongue trailing down the valley of her breasts, those powerful hands always kneading, caressing, stroking. Amanda's body arches off the bed, calling out in pleasure as the brunette's tongue detours past her belly button, dipping into her desire-soaked folds.

"Olivia!" Amanda calls out, eyelids slamming shut as that well-practiced tongue strokes through her lower lips, thrusting inside her body, lapping at her juices, circling around her clitoris. Amanda's fingers search and seek out the sheets, bunching the fabric in her hands, her knees falling apart, silently begging for more contact.

It feels so damn good, Olivia's mouth on her body, her soft lips working against her skin in a rhythmic fashion.

Olivia's arms hook around her legs, sucking and kissing her, the flat of her tongue flicking Amanda's clit, slowly taking her higher and higher, the sounds of the younger woman's passions echoing in the room. Her heart rate continues to increase, the volume of her cries increasing when Olivia's tongue captures her engorged clit between her upper teeth and her lower lip, sucking at the tender flesh. Amanda rapidly crests her peak, waves of her climax rolling through her body. Olivia continues to drink deeply, riding the orgasm with the younger woman until repletion.

Amanda's limbs fall bonelessly against the bed, completely relaxed. Completely, and totally satiated.

"I love you, Amanda," Olivia whispers in benediction, pressing a light kiss against her lower lips, sliding up the younger woman's body and kissing each of Amanda's nipples. Amanda feels a kiss against her right shoulder, against the right side of her neck, and then on her cheek. When she tastes herself on Olivia's lips, Amanda moans lightly, threading her fingers through tangled brown locks.

"Thank you," Amanda says wistfully, blue eyes filling with emotion. She nudges Olivia lightly, pushing her onto back, throwing a leg over the older woman and resting her head on her chest. She closes her eyes, listening to the heartbeat beneath her right ear.

Pressing a kiss against the crown of her head, Olivia head tilts to the side. "For?"

Amanda swallows, thickly. There was just so much to thank Olivia for — where was she supposed to start? "For being here. For loving me. For making me forget. At least for a moment."

A faint smile curves Olivia's lips, kissing her head again, "Anytime, sweetheart."

There's a long pause.

"An eggplant, really?"

* * *

They walk into the restaurant together. Like actually together, hand-in-hand, in public, for the first time. Amanda bites her lip, conscious of the feeling of Olivia's palm in hers, the way it makes her heart twist and race all at once, the sensation of butterflies in her stomach.

"You want me to let go?" Olivia murmurs, her voice scarcely traveling to Amanda's ears.

"No," She really doesn't, though she is a little nervous about talking about any of this in front of her partner.

"He _had_ to know, Amanda," Olivia's voice is low, comforting Amanda, giving her a light tug as she pulls her in the direction of a private room Vanessa had suggested earlier. "Vanessa _had_ to know about us, in case the prosecutor plans on bringing it up, and we are nowhere in the vicinity of New York. Unless you're afraid about people down here knowing." Her head drops, her grip on Amanda's hand loosening, preparing to drop it.

"No," Amanda mutters. "It's nice — sweet even," feeling the flush of her cheeks. "I just..." _I just don't want you to blow your whole career because of me._

"Let me worry about that." Reading her mind, Olivia squeezes her hand and opens the door to the private room. Now she does drop her hand, letting Amanda precede her, gently touching her back as they enter the room where Vanessa and Fin are sitting at a round table with white tablecloth, both drinking white wine. There are four glasses of water and a half-empty bottle of wine. Amanda smiles weakly at the pair, despite her misgivings she really is glad to see her partner.

"Amanda, Olivia," Vanessa rises to her feet as they reach the table, prompting Fin to follow suit. She gestures to the empty seats. Amanda can feel the heat of Fin's gaze on her and she forces herself to smile weakly, acknowledging his presence while not dwelling on it, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs, Olivia in the other to her right.

"Would either of you care for some wine?" Raising the bottle, Vanessa's green eyes bounced from Olivia to Amanda.

Olivia holds her glass out, letting the lawyer fill it and raising her eyebrows in question at Amanda's empty wineglass. Amanda shakes her head. Her stomach is already in knots and she doesn't want to add any fuel to the fire tonight.

"I hope you don't mind meeting here," Vanessa seems nonplussed. "While we can meet at my office I find that with certain matters are better discussed over a meal." She raises her eyes, allowing them to come into sharp focus on the blonde, and Amanda can see the intelligence behind those orbs. She can tell that there's not much that escapes Vanessa's notice. She would be the kind of predatory attorney that Amanda would hate to see at the defense table if she were bringing a rapist to court.

"So let's address the elephant in the room now – your relationship – because I can pretty much guarantee the prosecution will if this goes to trial," Vanessa looks at Amanda, waiting for her nod before she continues. "How long have you two been seeing each other?"

Olivia and Amanda exchange looks. "Four years, more or less? We've been exclusive for one month," Olivia answers truthfully, reaching a hand underneath the table and squeezing her knee. Amanda's trepidition is only somewhat mollified by the presence of her girlfiend's hand tracing circles on her knee.

"And does anyone else know about this relationship?" Vanessa is scribbling some notes on her yellow legal pad. "Friends, family, coworkers?"

"My team knows," Olivia answers. "But they know how to be discreet. None of my guys are going to talk."

They might not, but that doesn't mean someone in Atlanta PD won't. Amanda glances down at the white tablecloth, blue eyes tracing over the silverwear and around the gold-rimmed edges of the dinner plate. She's so focused on the way her face reflects off the polished silver that she loses track of the conversation until Olivia is gently tapping her on the shoulder.

"...Amanda?"

The blonde shakes her head lightly, blinking her way back into focus, looking at the other table's occupant's. "Sorry," Amanda's eyes dart towards the ground briefly. "I was just thinking."

"It's okay," Vanessa's eyes are sympathetic, reaching out and briefly yet gently squeezing Amanda's free hand, while Olivia weaves her fingers through her other. "It's understandable, given what you've been through. I have a few more questions for you Amanda, if you're up to it," the attorney withdraws her hand. "Then we'll talk strategy."

Amanda takes a long sip of water, wishing it was a scotch but not wanting to deal with another hangover so soon on the heels of her last one. Setting her glass down, she clenches her jaw and nods, waiting for the inevitable barrage of questions.

"Your uncle," Vanessa shifts back to her legal pad, picking up her pen. "You came down here because you believed he was abusing your... eight-year-old cousin?" At Amanda's nod, she continues. "And you knew this was happening because it also happened to your sister? You witnessed it?"

Amanda nods curtly, dread building in her stomach.

"How long did it go on?"

"About a year," Amanda shrugs, not really wanting to continue this line of conversation. She's carefully barricaded those memories in the back of her mind. "More or less."

Vanessa scribbles a few notes. "Your sister is in jail now in New York, right? This is not her first time to be in jail?"

"Yeah," Amanda sighs, "she's been in trouble a few times, but this last time was pretty bad."

Vanessa nods. "The prosecution is going to try to argue that this was revenge for prior bad acts committed. That your work as a sex crimes detective finally made you snap."

Amanda snorts, taking another sip of her water.

"They may also ask you if he ever touched you," Vanessa is matter-of-fact, though her eyes convey sorrow at having to pursue this line of questioning. Olivia's hand snakes under the table, resting on her thigh in a silent show of support.

Amanda's head drops, mumbling a "yes" under her breath. Refusing to look at Fin. Refusing to look at anyone. "I didn't shoot him, though."

Vanessa nods in sympathy, "How long did he abuse you?"

Amanda closes her eyes, feeling Olivia squeeze her knee. She can feel her pulse pounding, her heart racing, the rush of blood in her ears. Her stomach is clenching like she's going to vomit, and in that moment, she inhales shakily, worried that she's going to lose it right here, right now.

"About three years." Her voice is scarcely a whisper. "I just didn't want him touching my sister anymore."

The attorney makes some more notes on her pad. "Amanda, how many people have you shot in the line of duty?"

"Two," she's never been more grateful for a topic change, finally opening her eyes, though she still refuses to look at Fin. Amanda drums her fingers on the table. "Both of which were investigated and ruled good shoots."

"And Olivia said the day of the shooting you were helping his wife and kids leave?"

Amanda nods, wondering why they have to hash this out to death.

"Where did you spend your time once you went into his house?"

"I was in the living room talking to Katie," Amanda frowns. "I was keeping her occupied while Olivia searched the house for evidence he was abusing Katie."

Vanessa nods. "Any chance Katie or one of the girls killed Charlie?"

"Unfortunately Katie's alibi checked out," Olivia's voice is a soothing blanket rushing over her, providing solace during this difficult line of inquiries. "I looked over the security footage last night from the hotel – Katie never left any of the entrances. She's clean."

"We'll likely have one or all three of them testify in court, but we'll have to be careful not to demonize him too much," Vanessa looks between the three of them. "We don't want to play into the prosecution's narrative that this is for revenge."

Amanda raises her head, finally looking at Vanessa, Fin, and Olivia. "I can't be the only one who would have wanted him dead."

"Hell if he wasn't already dead I'd kill him myself," Fin sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His dark eyes were narrowed in anger.

"Get in line," Olivia mutters, taking another drink of her wine. She frowns when her phone buzzes, and she pushes her chair back, raising her phone to her ear. "Benson."

"As an officer of the court I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Vanessa says airily, flipping the page of her pad. "Our first goal is going to be to establish an alibi for your entire day. Break their argument that you were in the vicinity of the victim when he was murdered."

"Liv already gave me the list of places where Amanda was," Fin leans forward, resting his arms on the table. "We're going to go collect surveillance footage tomorrow."

"I can go." Amanda needs to do something — _anything_ — to clear her name.

"You can't be anywhere near this," Vanessa shakes her head apologetically. "Given your history with the deceased you could be accused of planting or manufacturing evidence. Our goal is to make _you_ the victim in all this. And to pose a plausible alternative theory."

"Won't have to work hard to earn your retainer then," Amanda barks back, tired of feeling like she doesn't have a voice in this. "This is my life we're talking about here. I can't just sit back and do nothing. I might as well let them put the needle in my arm."

"No one's going to put any needle in your arm," Olivia replies calmly, taking her seat once more, ending her call, looking between the table's other occupants. "You're not going to believe this. That was TARU getting back to me on the contents of the hard drive. They found a terabyte of kiddie porn on a hidden partition."

Amanda feels her stomach lurch.

Fin releases a low whistle, "that's a hell of a lot of videos and pictures. No wonder someone wanted that laptop back."

Amanda's mind is swimming with questions. A terabyte? Just how many kids did he abuse? Were the pictures all involving him? Who else was in the pictures?

Vanessa exhales. "Do me a favor, have your computer guys send photos of any adults in those pictures to me. I have a contact in the DMV that can run facial recognition. If any of them are local it means someone else has motive."

"Do they know who the kids are?" Amanda asks quietly, blinking rapidly. Black spots are starting to form in her field of vision, everyone else sounding far away, tinny. _God please say there aren't any of Kim._

Fin and Vanessa are talking, something about trying to canvas for a murder weapon, but it's almost like their voices are masked behind a thick layer of fog.

"Amanda," Olivia's voice is low, filled with concern and a little alarm. "Amanda, sweetheart."

Her mind is frantically scrabbling for any recollection of Charles taking pictures of her, of Kim. God are there pictures of her floating around out there, in cyberspace, being accessed by perverts from around the world?

"Sweetheart, focus on my voice," Olivia's voice is so very far away.

"I need some air," Amanda pushes her chair back so abruptly it almost tops over, shoving to her feet, and shrugging off Olivia's hand. Vanessa and Fin look up abruptly from their conversation, looks of equal surprise on their faces.

Olivia is calling after her, but Amanda's hand is already on the door, pushing it open and weaving her way through the maze of diners, servers, food carts, and busboys. The noise of the main dining room is almost welcoming, chaotic, sucking her in as she drives with a single-minded purpose towards the front foyer.

She waves a hand dismissively at the concerned college student playing hostess at the front door, stepping into the chilly winter air and down the front steps. She rests her head against the brick facade, closing her eyes and taking some deep, heaving breaths, hand fumbling in her back pocket for her pack of cigarettes.

The first hit of nicotine immediately slows her heart down, beginning to unwind her. Amanda's eyes close, still leaning against the wall, the cigarette held loosely between the fingers of her right hand while the fingers of her left drum a silent beat against the outside of her thigh.

"Yo, Amanda," the rich, baritone voice of her partner cuts through the minor chatter of the few pedestrians foolish enough to be outside in these frigid temperatures. Easing her right eye open, she peers at Fin out of the corner of her orbit, jaw clenching against the intrusion on her privacy.

"It's cool," Fin is nonplussed, leaning against the wall with her. "You don't have to speak. Just know I've got your six."

Amanda snorts, but in this moment she's grateful. Grateful that Fin cares enough to stand out here in the freezing ass cold while she indulges the only socially-acceptable vice she has left. Grateful that they don't need words to define their partnership. That the _choice_ to talk or not is hers.

As they stand there in the almost-silence, Amanda smokes her cigarette down to its snub, flicking it to the ground and stubbing it out with the toe of her shoe. She closes her eyes, resting her palms against the wall behind her body, heedless of the bite of the cold brick.

"I just want to be treated normally," Amanda says, haltingly giving voice to her biggest fear. That this will never be behind her.

"Were you ever normal, Rollins?" Fin laughs as he dodges the punch she throws at his arm. Amanda is relieved, then, at that easy sibling-like rapport she has with her fellow detective.

After her relationship with Liv, she thinks this may be what she misses most if she's locked up.

"Thanks," Amanda grinds out, telling herself the sting in her eyes is just from the temperature outside. It's a different feeling, having people in her corner, people who actually believe in her and who will do whatever it takes to see it through.

"Now can we get inside already? There's a steak in there with my name on it." Fin gives her a push just hard enough to knock her off balance, and Amanda laughs, pushing back at him. "Tell you what, you can watch my six this time," he says, turning and walking towards the entrance, Amanda following him in. "If I stare at yours Liv'll fucking kill my ass."

"Fuck you too."


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Another day, another monster update. It's been a little hectic over the past week but I'm gonna try to do my best to get on track planning and writing wise. This chapter is brought to you courtesy of my puppy's fluffy little butt's and Mariska's Hargitay's fine, fine figure (because at least one chapter has to be dedicated to that body...)**

 **Oh and Sheepish? Tag, you're it. I want a chapter of In Your Arms as of five minutes ago.**

* * *

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 19**

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

The neighborhood is bustling, even for a weekday morning. Kids of all ages are racing around, standing on corners with backpacks featuring the latest cartoons, waiting for yellow-paneled school buses while their harried mothers look on. Teenagers mill around, pushing playfully at each other, listening to their too-loud music and generally teasing each other.

Olivia and Fin are waiting across from Charles Beckett's house in their black Ford sedan, waiting on Matt from Atlanta's homicide unit to come in and walk them through the crime scene. Yellow tape cordons off the front door, the only visible sign of the crime that happened here.

"How's she been doing?" Fin asks, turning his head from his position in the passenger seat, dark eyes searching his boss' own. The detective is wearing a black army-style jacket over a dark red shirt and black denim jeans. Alone, in this predominantly white neighborhood, he'd stand out like a sore thumb. But with Olivia by his side he's relegated to a minor oddity, drawing few stares from onlookers.

"You saw her, Fin." Olivia sips her coffee, trailing the fingernail of her index finger over the lid. The chilly winter air is seeping into the car, and even though Olivia has dressed warmly — she is wearing a salmon-colored turtleneck sweater and dark denim jeans, brown leather boots and matching leather jacket — it is still cold in the car, owing to the cold front that is passing through. "Fine one minute, an absolute wreck the next. And can you really blame her?"

Fin's expression sours. "The dude's lucky he's already dead, because worse woulda happened if I got ahold of him," squeezing his right hand into a tight fist.

"You and me both," Olivia mutters, absently staring out the rearview mirror, thinking that if Charles Beckett were still alive she would have castrated the man with a melon baller. A lone dark sedan pulls around the corner, Olivia's eyes tracking the unmarked as it pulls up to the house, parking on the curb. She breathes a sigh of relief when Matt steps out of the car; from what she's seen he's one of the few allies Amanda has, one of the few detectives that is interested in uncovering the truth.

Olivia and Fin exit the car, nodding to the tall detective as he approaches the house, his head scanning the surrounding area.

"I could get in some serious trouble for doing this," Matt says as he approaches the door, pulling out a penknife to break the seal of the crime tape. The homicide detective had on a white oxford and maroon tie, blue pants and black shoes, the bottom of his tan overcoat fluttering in the wind. He pulls out a key and unlocks the door, glancing back to the two New York City detectives.

"I know," Olivia acknowledges, offering Matt a grateful smile. "I can't tell you how much we appreciate you giving us access to the crime scene."

"Speaking of which," Matt reaches into the pocket of his trench coat, handing Olivia her gun back, the brunette taking it appreciatively and nodding her thanks. "CSU finished and cleared it. Ballistics don't match so you can have it back."

"What about Amanda's service weapon? It's the same caliber." Olivia tucks the gun into the pocket of her coat, frowning when Matt purses his lips, her eyes meeting Fin's. "She never even carried it," glancing back to the other detective.

Matt shakes his head sadly, pushing the door open. "I can't. She was charged with his murder. Even if it isn't the murder weapon, I can't release it. It's still an ongoing investigation."

"Yeah, well what _I_ know is Amanda's not good for this," Fin grumbles under his breath as the trio steps inside. Matt closes and locks the door behind them, flicking up the light switch to illuminate the living room. "Now we just gotta find something to clear her."

Olivia hisses, surveying a scene that is so very different from the one she left just a few days earlier. The brunette slowly walks towards the center of the living room where she and Amanda told Katie about Emily's abuse. The memory is so fresh she can still picture it in her mind's eye.

Now, it looks like a small tornado has torn through the room — the bookshelf is emptied, DVD cases and books are scattered across the ground, dark grey dust coating most of the surfaces in the room where CSU dusted for prints. The glass on the coffee table is shattered, crunching lightly under her boots as she slowly turns, trying to get a more complete picture of what happened here.

Matt frowns, his lips pressed together thinly, his eyes scanning the room, the detective shaking his head. "I'll walk you through the scene, but I've searched everywhere for something to clear Mandy. I haven't found anything yet."

He's skeptical, and she can't fault him for that – their jobs depend on them maintaining objectivity and a healthy dose of skepticism. But Olivia refuses to believe that there is nothing here to help Amanda.

 _Something is here, there just has to be._

A spray of blood is pasted across the coffee table and wall behind the sofa like an artist took their paintbrush and flecked crimson at a canvas. Olivia's dark brown orbs study the yellow scene cards and their positioning on the floor next to the coffee table, where long-dried pools of blood have saturated into an expensive-looking area rug.

Kneeling, Olivia pulls on a pair of latex gloves for protection as her eyes take in the significant amount of dried blood across the floor, along with several pock-marked areas that are from where the bullets tore through the carpet.

This is the place where he died.

 _One two three four five..._

"He was shot six times," Matt says, kneeling beside Olivia's right side, both knees tucked beneath him and resting on his heels. "Once in each knee, a shot in either elbow, a shot to his stomach and one to his..." he looks away, wincing.

"Man someone really wanted this guy to suffer," Fin murmurs, standing behind Olivia, slightly to her left side. "Shot like that would have taken a long time to bleed out."

"The ME estimates twenty to thirty minutes," Matt runs a hand through his hair, sighing softly. "First two shots were to his knees, we think, because he didn't move much from this area. Second two we think were to the elbows, kept him from crawling."

"Shot to the gut and he's in so much pain he's wishing for it to end," Fin kneels beside Olivia, resting a forearm on his right knee. "The last shot was just some cold ass shit."

"Or a statement," Matt agrees, shoving with his hands off his knees. "Impossible to tell which shot finally killed him. Both the shot to the stomach and to the groin clipped arteries. There's a lot of rage here. Someone had a serious grudge against this guy."

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," Olivia mutters sarcastically, pushing to her feet. She looks over to Matt, "What caliber gun?"

"It was a .45," Matt says, resting his hands on his hips. "Same as yours. Same as Mandy's. And before you say anything," he raises his hands to forestall protests from the others. "We know the ballistics don't match from either of your sidearms. However Mandy's law enforcement knowledge means she knows to get rid of a weapon used for a crime."

"Any asshole with half a brain knows how to do that." Olivia argues, rolling her eyes, her frustration rising. "Where's the _real_ evidence?" At this point it seems so obvious a set up that she's of a mind to start knocking heads around.

Matt exhales loudly, "We're on the same side, Lieutenant," he reminds Olivia and Fin, "our medical examiner concluded Charles was shot by someone who is right-handed, of her height and build. Her fingerprints were found there," gesturing over to where Amanda kept Katie distracted while Olivia searched the house. "Strands of her hair were located on that couch."

"Yeah but that just proves she was here," Fin says, casually pacing around the living room, dark eyes scanning for any new evidence. "Not that she killed Charles."

"And that's where she sat the day when we helped Katie and the girls leave," Olivia pointed out, echoing Fin, slowly circling around an upturned end table, angling towards the bookshelf.

"There... is one more thing," Matt says, and Olivia hears the catch in his voice, her head spinning around. At Matt's silence, Olivia slowly makes her way back towards where Matt has knelt back down, his fingertips curling beneath the edge of the rug at the same time Fin comes to stand beside her.

"You didn't see this from me," Matt's tone is showing the same signs of hesitation Olivia uses when telling someone their loved one have died. "It's not a place a killer would have had any reason to look, and my superiors believe..." Matt lifts his fingertips at the same time as he finishes "...well they think Becket already identified his."

Olivia's breath catches when she sees what Matt is trying to tell her. Somewhere, out of the corner of her mind, she can hear a muttered explicative from Fin.

Written in blood, next to where Charles' lifeless body would have laid, was a name.

 _Amanda Rollins._

Olivia feels like she's going to be sick.

"She didn't do it," Olivia mutters, even though even she has to admit that if she had a stack of evidence like this on her desk she'd have brought Amanda in for questioning. But she knows, instinctively knows, that Amanda didn't do this. Mahogany brown eyes level on the other two detectives. "Why would she have spent all that time hiding a gun to leave her name near the body?"

"Charles wrote the name," Matt let the rug fall. "His fingerprints were found in blood beneath the edge. But I agree with you. Whatever happened here, someone is trying to make it look like Mandy did it. So let's look around, see what we can find, though," Matt shakes his head. "I've been here half a dozen times since the murder and haven't found a thing."

Olivia is still reeling that a once-surmountable task has become impossible. "Let's start at opposite ends of the house, and meet back here in an hour."

The boys nod, and each of them move in their own direction — Fin opting to stay in the living room, Matt heading towards the kitchen, while Olivia decides to try the study just off of the living room, all the while thinking of what she just saw.

It didn't make sense. How could a man shot as brutally as Charles have the ability to write a name next to his body in his own blood? Wouldn't he be in so much pain that coherent function would be near impossible? The killer has to be someone who knew Amanda is in town and harbors some kind of grudge.

Olivia steps inside the office, which looks like a tornado torn through it. Files and papers are thrown all over the room, the splintered remains of a broken desk drawer laying untouched along the floor. Olivia weaves through the debris, kneeling beside a large oak desk, running her hands along the edges, searching for any hidden panels or keys. Nothing. She pushes to her feet, opening various desk drawers. The long flat center one holds simply office supplies. Each of the lower drawers is filled with paperwork, and Olivia sits down briefly, taking time to thumb through it.

The only people who know Amanda is in town are her mother, Katie's family, and Atlanta PD. And while Amanda's mother is a bitch and Katie is the obvious beneficiary of Beckett's death, Olivia highly doubts any of them would write Amanda's name at a crime scene. So that leaves an ocean of possible suspects from Atlanta PD. Anyone from the Atlanta SVU squad could have done this, or even someone from another squad with a serious axe to grind against Amanda. Speaking of which...

"Hey Matt, why is homicide taking this case if he was shot in the genitals?" Olivia calls out, still looking through the file folders, which appears to contain business paperwork. "Seems like a sex crime, to me."

"I guess they wanted an appearance of a neutrality during the investigation." Matt yells back.

"Some neutrality," Olivia mutters, finishing her scan of the documents and turning her attention to the filing cabinet. "More like a witch hunt."

There isn't a computer in the office, but the presence of cabling hints that this is where the laptop was. Olivia has been mum on the topic of the kiddie porn and instructed Fin to do the same, choosing to play her cards close to her chest on this one.

She continues to search through the papers in silence for an undetermined amount of time. Most of what she sees are receipts related to the dealership, with the occassional note and memo thrown in from his golfing buddies. Olivia frowns, and realizing that this could take forever, she opens her cell phone and calls the little disposable phone she bought Amanda after hers was confiscated.

It rings once, then a voice that brings a smile to her face answers the phone.

 **"Hey Liv,"** Olivia can almost picture her now, phone resting against her shoulder while she moves about the small suite that's become their base of operations. **"What's up?"**

"Hey sweetheart," Olivia murmurs into the phone, eyes skimming through piles of auto service agreements. "I need you to ask Katie if there is any area where Charles spent a majority of his time. Matt seems to have pretty well cleared most of this place out."

 **"Sure. Let me throw some jeans on and I'll run over there."** Shuffling can be heard in the background, along with a few excited yips.

Olivia feels a throb in her groin at the mental image of Amanda running around their suite half-dressed. Sometimes she swears Amanda does it on purpose.

 **"How's it going?"** Olivia can hear a few huffing noises and a sniffle. In her mind's eye, she can see Amanda hopping from one leg to another as she dresses.

"Oh, I'm just trying to narrow the scope of our search."

 **"Yeah, and...?"**

She doesn't really want to explain to Amanda that her name ended up anywhere near the vicinity of her dead uncle, but it's going to be difficult to avoid it.

 **"That bad, huh?"** Amanda's tone is half-joking, but Olivia knows her well enough to hear the underlying concern.

"Amanda, they found your name written in your uncle's blood," there's no real tactful way to say it, but she tries. "They believe he wrote it; I think it was someone trying to frame you."

There's silence on the other end so long Olivia actually looks at her phone to make sure she hasn't dropped the call.

 **"Let me go ask Katie,"** Amanda's voice is tight, strained, causing Olivia's heart to fall.

"Amanda we'll get them, I promise."

 **"Don't make promises you can't keep, Liv. I'm fine."** Olivia knows saying anything else would be unwelcome, so she waits in silence as Katie answers the door.

Olivia begins to zone out, mindlessly flicking through dry cleaning receipts and other mundane expense reports, not really interested in eavesdropping in Amanda's conversation, looking for that one critical piece of information that she asked of the blonde.

 **"Yeah that'd be okay. Yeah Frannie would love that. Sure we can grab some coffee first. Okay thanks."** There is a pause, a sound of a door closing, and then, **"Liv?"**

Olivia zooms back in on the conversation. "Yes sweetheart?" Sitting back in the chair and running a hand through her hair.

 **"She said he spent some time in his workshop in the garage, but that's it. His study was the only other place he spent any time."**

Olivia's heart sinks, her face falling — definitely not the news she is looking for. "I'll take a look. Be safe, okay? Don't go out on your own."

 **"I get it,"** Amanda's response is clipped, curt. Testy. Olivia can hardly blame her — Amanda's as much a prisoner in that hotel room as she was in the jail. If the shoe was on the other foot, Olivia would probably be crawling out of her skin. **"Bye."**

"Sorry Amanda, you'll do the right thing," Olivia soothes, reminding herself that Amanda is capable of making her own decisions. "I love you."

 **"I..."** Amanda's tone softens. **"I love you too, Liv."**

Olivia smiles, putting down the phone, pushing to her feet and stretching her arms over her head, feeling the vertabrae in her back crack into place. Making her way to the end of the hall she enters what she knows is the garage, flipping on the light switch, brown eyes immediately locating the workbench that Amanda was referring to.

It was a typical garage workspace, with a solid wooden countertop and pegboard holding some well-used tools, a red shelving system below that held smaller attachments and extensions. The workspace is clean though, and Olivia searches it thoroughly, checking underneath and around it, rifling through the drawers and opening up the cabinets that hung over the table. But there is nothing that looks out of place for a garage, and Olivia sighs deeply, flipping open the lid on a metal toolbox.

There, underneath a dirty, oil-stained rag, is a small steno pad, similar to the ones reporters used back before tape recorders became ubiquitous. Olivia thumbs through it, her eyes lighting up as she scans its contents.

It's not much, a list of names and numbers, which could be anything from gambling debts to a sales slip. There are no last names but each name has a set of tick marks next to it.

It may not help, but she snaps some pictures of the pages with her camera phone anyways. There are four of them so it's not like she's struggling to keep up. Bagging the notepad Olivia enters the living room, drawing the attention of Fin and Matt, both of whom look more than happy for the distraction.

"I may have something," Olivia hands the notepad to Matt. "It's a list of first names and numbers."

"Damn I'm glad you found something because my ass was going numb from sitting on this floor," Fin groans as Olivia extends her arm, helping the detective to his feet.

"It's more than what I found," Matt frowns, eyes skimming over the pages. "I'll see if I can lift latents, maybe it's a log book of sorts?"

"Our best bet of figuring that out is to talk to Katie later," Olivia says, glancing between the two men. "But I'm not sure I'm going to find anything useful that your crime scene techs haven't seen," looking back to Matt.

"It was worth a shot," Matt shakes his head in disgust, looking around the room. "Anything else you want to look at while you are here?"

"Nah, we'll call you if we have questions," Fin clasps hands with Matt. Olivia nods, and together the three of them exit the house. Matt turns around to lock the door.

"Can you send me a photo of the untouched scene?" It's not for personal gratification, though it will be gratifying to see Charles dead in his own pool of blood. What she needs is to analyze the small details, to see what really happened.

Matt nods, tapping a few buttons on his phone. A few seconds later Olivia's phone buzzes. Olivia thumbs it off.

"Thanks Matt," Olivia shakes his hand. "We'll be in touch."

"Me too," Matt says, heading to the sedan that's curbside. "I'll let you know if I find out anything on that list."

Olivia and Fin take their seats right as Matt's car pulls away. The brunette rests her forehead against the steering wheel, sighing deeply.

"Hey, you found that log book, Liv. That's got to be tied to the case somehow." Fin places his left hand on her right shoulder, squeezing gently.

"It's not enough," Olivia straightens, turning the car on and shifting it into gear. "And with her name at the scene — we need an alibi," her brown eyes glancing in the rear view mirror as she pulls into traffic.

"So Rollins wasn't with you the night he was killed?" Fin frowns, pulling the GPS location for the liquor store Amanda went to.

"Only for part of the evening," Olivia says. "When we left the precinct she went to go see her mom alone, and after that..."

"Lemme guess, it didn't go well," Fin shakes his head, pointing to the right, indicating he wants Olivia to turn. The liquor store is about fifteen minutes away.

"That's putting in mildly," Olivia's hands eases the cruiser into the right lane. "I didn't see her again until after midnight, so drunk she could barely stand." Olivia doesn't even want to know how the car made it back to the hotel. At this point she's just grateful Amanda survived.

"Damn," Fin frowns. "That doesn't look good." Worry creases his brow. He's been doing this long enough to know that any half-competent prosecutor could drive a truck right through the gap in the timeline.

"That's why we've got to account for her whereabouts for every second after she left her mother's," Olivia concurs as she pulls into the parking lot of the ABC Liquor Store. Olivia snorts – the least the owners could do is use some imagination when choosing a name. She throws the car into park, turning off the engine, exiting at nearly the same time as Fin as her eyes scan the window displays of cheap posterboard advertising the weekly specials. Opening the barred front door, she and Fin step inside, booted feet squeaking on the scuffed linoleum.

It doesn't take long to identify the cashier, and together they make their way over to the slight man with red hair and green eyes, unshaven, with bangs falling over his eyes, his stained white t-shirt untucked. He has a name tag that reads 'Hello, my name is Mark' and he studies the pair curiously when they approach.

"Can I help you?" He glances between Olivia and Fin, his suspicious gaze focusing on the duo, realizing they were there for something other than alcohol.

Olivia flashes her badge briefly, watching the twenty-something year old straighten. From where she is standing, her badge would easily be accepted as belonging to Atlanta PD.

"Hey we haven't let another minor in here since that last incident," Mark holds up his hands, eyes as wide as silver dollars, taking a tenative step away from the counter, looking between Olivia and Fin like they're going to cuff him right there.

Olivia and Fin exchange amused smirks, the brunette finally turning her focus back to the cashier.

"And we'll be checking on that," she plays along, "but that's not why I'm here – this time."

"Yeah you remember seeing this woman in here?" Fin holds up Amanda's picture and shows it to the cashier. "Woulda been a couple of days ago."

"The hottie from the other night?" Mark frowns, leaning in close to the iPhone screen and studying the picture while Olivia and Fin exchange amused glances. "Oh yeah," he settles back, smiling and nodding. "Only reason I remember is because her face was really red, like she'd been crying, and she bought three bottles of Jack Daniels. With all that booze, I figured she must have just broken up with her boyfriend, so I thought, 'Hey, I'll see if she wants some company later'."

It takes everything – everything – in her not to slap Mark across the back of his head. What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

Mark must have read something in her features, because he takes a step back again, holding up his hands. "Hey she told me where I could shove it, paid for the Jack in cash and left, alone."

Olivia can't help but smirk. That sounds exactly like her girl. Olivia's brown eyes dart to the corners of the room until she locates it – a small security camera in the corner.

"That thing working?" She nods towards the camera.

Mark nods. "Has to be, or we'd get break-ins all the time."

Olivia puts her hands on the counter, resting her body weight on the pockmarked surface, and smiles. "Show me the footage."

They left the liquor store about thirty minutes later, security footage in hand, establishing Amanda's presence in the liquor store after she left her mother's house. It is the first good piece of news they've had since Amanda's arrest, and they both feel their spirits lift over it.

No pun intended.

The drive to the bar is mostly silent, Olivia and Fin each lost in their own personal thoughts. The low sounds of Frank Sinatra are playing quietly through the radio as they navigate the unfamiliar terrain.

The bar is a little hole in the wall that reeks of cheap booze and vomit on the outside of its poorly lit facade. Olivia grimaces, fighting against her own surge of bile as she covers her face and mouth. Fin's face is pale, tugging open the door, stepping through into the dimly lit interior that is mostly empty at this time of day. There are a couple of middle-aged men who appear to be truckers at the countertop, and a pair of shady-looking figures at a booth in the back corner.

It only smells marginally better in here, and Olivia wonders why the hell Amanda couldn't have chosen a nicer place to drown her sorrows. She follows Fin to the far end of the scratched-up wooden bar, ignoring a small wall-mounted TV that's tuned in to some random sports channel, not that anyone is really paying attention to it.

The bartender is definitely a sight, reminding Olivia a little of bartenders out of an old western, mutton chops and thick, bushy mustache and all. Olivia and Fin walk up to him, where he's cleaning a glass with a dirty rag.

Olivia grimaces once more. How could anyone actually drink here?

"What'll it be?" The bartender doesn't even look up.

"Some answers to our questions," Olivia flashes her badge, shoving her disgust to the back of her mind, whipping out her phone and flashing Amanda's photograph. "This woman, she in on Monday night?"

The bartender leans forward, squinting at the screen. "Blondie?" He seems genuinely surprised. "Yeah she was in," he taps a meaty forefinger to his chin. "Came in around sometime between 7:30 and 8:30, didn't leave until closing. Only woman in the bar that night, so she stood out."

"Yeah damn bitch wouldn't let me buy her a drink," one of the truckers, obviously inebriated, complains. "Thought she was too good for me, stupid whore."

"What'd you say?" Olivia's voice is dangerously low as she turns to face the man, her heart racing as she moves towards the trucker in almost perfect unison with Fin.

"I said that bi..."

Olivia grips him by the back of his head, slamming his face into the bar, the corner of her mouth tugging upwards upon hearing the crunch of his nasal bones snapping from the impact.

"You bith!" The drunk lisps, covering his now-bleeding nose with his hand. "You broke my fucking nothe!"

"Yeah and you're lucky she didn't break your fucking neck. My lieutenant must be in a good mood," Fin swoops in, pinning the men with an angry glare, moving his jacket aside and showing his holstered sidearm. "Trust me when I say you don't want to see her in a bad mood." He leans in. "Now shut the fuck up 'fore I break every tooth in that mouth of yours."

The injured trucker scowls at both of the police officers, turning his head, muttering under his breath but appropriately cowed. Olivia continues to glare at him for a moment before turning back to the bartender.

"Did she leave at any time?" Olivia directs this question as well as her focus back to the bartender, a kernel of anger still burning brightly in her chest. Every nerve in her body was tingling, her heart racing double time, electricity racing through her veins.

"Nope," the bartender shook his head, nodding to the corner. "Stayed there the entire time. Didn't say a word to anyone either." He tosses the dirty rag to the counter, rolling up the sleeves on his Atlanta Braves sweatshirt.

"Do you have anything that will back that up? Bar tab, surveillance footage, anything at all?" Fin rolls his head around, his vertebrae popping into place with a satisfying crackle.

The bartender frowns, thinking for a long moment, eyes suddenly lighting up and he paces back towards the register, reaching under the countertop, pulling out a shoebox stuffed full of receipts.

"Don't know how much it'll help you," he said. "But these are the receipts from the past week."

Fin and Olivia look at each other with equal looks of dismay.

"So we got Amanda's alibi for everything but part of the evening, from about 5:30 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. " Fin says as they walk towards the warehouse that supposedly houses the underground casino, Olivia's eyes darting to the security camera aimed towards its front door. There are three total, one pointing in either direction and one pointing towards the entrance.

"Now we just need to take a look at the security footage and find out which camera got the sedan," Olivia mutters darkly, a deep sense of foreboding settling in her gut. "How do we get inside to see him?"

Fin frowns, walking up towards the large blue-grey steel door and banging on it. "Open up, Rollins sent us."

They step back, partly withdrawing their sidearms in case they meet resistance. But the alley remains silent, the only noise the muted sounds of traffic a block over.

"This is the police," Olivia pulls out her gun, "We don't care about your gambling operation. We want footage from the alley. Open up the door or we're going to station a squad car outside every entrance of your building for the next year." She prays her bluff works.

Next to the door, there's a rusted steel intercom embedded in the red brick wall that crackles to life. "Lemme see your badges."

Both Olivia and Fin flash their credentials. There's a pause, and then a buzzer sound, the door swinging open.

The African-American man that fills the doorway is big, impossibly big. Samoan wrestler big. He's dressed head to toe in black, his dark eyes darting back and forth in irritation. Olivia holsters her gun. It probably wouldn't help against this monster anyways. "We need to review your security footage for a car that was parked here Monday night."

The man grunts wordlessly, turning and heading deeper into the building. Olivia and Fin trade glances, and with quick shrugs they follow, blinking as their eyes struggle to focus in the momentary transition from bright to dark.

They're led down a long corridor with peeling white paint, peppered with the occasional closed doorway. Their escort doesn't speak, silently moving them deeper into the bowels of the building.

They finally pass through a large room that looks like it might house some casino tables. Large black blankets are thrown over different pieces of furniture, something Olivia thinks was probably hastily done. They continue through the room to the far wall and into a small office large enough to hold a dark wooden desk and not much else.

Sitting behind the desk is a short Italian-looking man with closely cropped black hair and a thick unibrow. He's wearing a half-open button down blue short-sleeve shirt over a white tank top, and is drumming the edge of a badly chewed pen against the end of his desk.

"Detectives, so glad I can be of service," he leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his stomach, and in this moment Olivia hates everything about him. Because of his mock sincerity, because this is the place Amanda went instead of coming back to the hotel to actually talk about her problems. Because they need this weasel's cooperation instead of turning him in. "I'm Sal, and you are...?"

"We need your footage from Monday," Olivia snaps, ignoring the inquiry. She could give a rat's ass about introductions. After today she has no plans on seeing this place again. Fin's eyes dart over to her in concern, but he remains mute.

"All business, I like it, I like it," Sal says, putting the pen in his mouth as he clicks around on his computer. "You know if you tell me what I'm looking for I can probably help you narrow it down, cupcake."

"Tell you what, give us all your footage from between 4:00 pm and 9:00 pm Monday night," Fin says quickly, cutting Olivia off before she can emasculate Sal.

A flicker of something, _something_ , passes over Sal's features, a twitch so minute that all but a well-trained eye would miss it.

Olivia did not.

"Lemme see here. Monday, Monday, what could have possibly been going that day?" Sal gnaws on the end of that while he opens and closes files on his computer.

"I'll give you a hint," Olivia intones drolly. "It involves your illegal gambling operation."

"Casino? I don't know anything about a casino here. Well, that's weird," Sal continues, not giving them a chance to interject, looking hard at his computer screen. "Well, that's weird. Camera three was down being serviced for part of that day."

It was a punch to the gut, Olivia's breathing stopping for several seconds before resuming, the brunette leaning forward, gripping the edge of the desk so tightly she's surprised it doesn't splinter underneath the pressure of her fingertips.

"Excuse me?" She intones so softly, and with such tremulous control, that the black-haired Italian actually strains to hear it.

He turns his computer screen so Olivia and Fin can see it. The screen is divided up into four parts, with the fourth black. The others are labeled CAM1, CAM2, and CAM3 and contain black and white images, with a time stamp of 12:00.

Sal presses a button on his keyboard, and Olivia watches as the video fast forwards. The alley is first empty, then one person, then a few people trickle in. Irregularly spaced, not all at once and not any closer together than at a five minute increments.

No car.

Olivia's eyes dart between the three cameras, looking with first fear, then frustration when the video shorts out, then despair, and finally anger.

"Well that's it, cupcake. As you can see..."

Olivia lunges over the desk, gabbing Sal by the lapel with her left hand, and with her right hand rips her gun out of her holster and shoves it under his chin. "Where. Is. My. Missing. Footage?!" Sal tries to jerk away, to cry for help, but Olivia's fist locks into the fabric of his shirt and she presses the gun even harder against his chin.

Behind her the door opens, Fin shouting at the mountain of a man behind her, but she is too focused on the weasel in front of her to give a damn what was going on with her six.

"WHERE?" Olivia shouts, her cocoa eyes radiating pure rage, reaching back with her thumb and cocking the hammer of her service weapon.

"He took it!" Sal shouts, whimpering as he tries to claw away from Olivia's grip. "I don't know who it was he just came and threatened to shut me down pleasedon'tkillme." He shuts his eyes, whimpering.

"WHO?"

"I don't know his name!" Sal is trembling so violently it's almost impossible to keep ahold of him.

"Liv!"

Olivia clenches her teeth together, releasing an aggravated cry as she shoves Sal back in his chair. The man looks absolutely terrified.

Fin's hand closes around her bicep, keeping his gun leveled at the face of the giant behind them, but Olivia shrugs it off, turning around and shoving her way past Sal's bodyguard and through the door. Her chest is feeling oddly tight, her pulse is pounding in her ears and her throat is starting to constrict, her eyesight is starting to blur. She can hear footsteps pounding behind her, she's fairly certain it's Fin, but all she can see is Amanda chained like a fucking serial killer.

"Liv!"

Finally she's outside and back at the sedan and she's bending over, her hands on her knees. Her Glock is dangling loosely from her right hand, her eyes blurred with a mixture of anger, frustration, and self-loathing.

"Hey Liv, you alright?"

Olivia snaps her head towards Fin, brown eyes filling with tears, causing her vision to blur, her shoulders slumped wearily in defeat.

"I can't help her Fin." Without that footage, there's no way she can see out of this. There's nothing she can do to help Amanda. And after three days with almost no sleep she's reached her literal breaking point.

 _I almost killed a man._

"Liv," Fin bends on one knee beside Olivia, dropping his head. "You're here. That's enough."

"Fin if she goes to prison..." Olivia can't even finish the thought. She turns her head away from Fin, swiping at frustrated tears with the back of her hand.

"Liv, you're exhausted." Fin holsters his .45 semi-automatic, slowly reaching for Olivia's gun. "Let me take you back to the hotel." He gingerly flicks the safety back on, transferring the weapon to his other hand.

Pressing her fingers against her eyes, Olivia nods wearily.

"Okay Fin, Let's go."


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: I'm about halfway through the process of making a metric ton of Christmas cookies, but I needed to take a break because my hand was starting to cramp up from all the icing. Yummm... Anyways, we're starting to get to the end of the calm before the storm - this is the calm, you say? Or at least, I assume you say because you all are ... wherever you are, and I am here. Oh yes, this has been relatively calm - didn't I tell you that you were on my rollercoaster now, be-atches? I should have a cookie giveaway for anyone who can correctly guess the ending. PM's only, keep the reviews spoiler-free or I will send my Shih Tzu's to gnaw on your kneecaps. Okay so there may be more licking than gnawing. But they will pee on your carpet then give you sad puppy eyes so you won't yell at them, so there. Winner will have to settle for virtual cookies, unless you want to send me your address and a SASE. Cookies may crumble a little (lot) in the mail and the baker makes no guarantees as to their freshness or consumability after transport. Offer is not void in the Republic of Liechtenstein and in** **Kyrgyzstan and author cannot ship to the Moon unless rocket ship is also provided along with space suits for three Shih Tzus.**

 **Oh, and how about that season ending - I can't wait to see some Mama Bear Benson kick ass, eviscerate the perp and hang him up by his intestines.**

* * *

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 20**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

"How have you been holding up?"

Amanda Rollins takes a long sip of her macchiato, humming in appreciation at the vanilla-y, caramel-y goodness that coats her tastebuds and her throat. The steaming liquid warms her from the inside out, spreading from her stomach to her extremities and filling her with memories of better times. She tilts her head, thinking for a moment on the question.

She doesn't blame Katie, not anymore. The woman's life has been uprooted as much as Amanda's, and she has rallied behind her girls, and behind Amanda, admirably. Which is why she accepted this invitation to go to the park with her, Frannie and the girls, opting for the first time to get out of her hotel room and breathe some fresh air, even if it _is_ a little cold. With Olivia and Fin off doing their thing and Amanda not allowed to participate in her own investigation, she is getting a little stir crazy.

"It's been a lot to process," Amanda admits, her cobalt gaze lifting to meet Katie's own, crossing her jean-clad legs, before reaching up and pulling the bright red knit hat lower over her ears. It's not as windy as it was the day before, but there is still enough of a chill in the air to nip at any exposed skin. "A week ago I didn't even know you all existed," Amanda takes another drink from her cup. "And now..."

"...you could end up in prison because of us," Katie's green eyes fill with remorse, and she reaches out a hand, resting it on Amanda's upper arm. "Amanda, you have no idea how sorry I am about all this," she glances away, looking over to where Stephanie is pushing Emily higher and higher on the swings, much to the younger girl's delighted shrieks. "I can't help but think this is all my fault."

"Yeah, well he was a master manipulator," Amanda's eyes follow a woman with a jogging stroller as she follows the sidewalk around the edge of the park. Frannie's ears perk up at this strange new sight, tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, head cocked to the side, tugging on the end of her leash and whining. Amanda has wrapped the end of the red leash around the metal leg of their park bench, that way Frannie can't tug it out of her hands. "He was really good at letting people see only what he wanted them to see," Amanda continues, thinking back to the previous evening.

Or using incriminating pictures to force people to look the other way.

Amanda is finally piecing together why it was so hard to get people to help her all those years ago.

"Still," Katie's arm falls to her knee, black-gloved fingertips scratching along her own jeans before settling into the pockets of her off-brand blue puffer jacket. "I'll never forgive myself for what happened to my baby girls." The brunette's eyes water, and she frowns, fishing in her brown leather purse for some tissues. "I'm going to take your Olivia's advice and get them some help."

 _My Olivia_. The thought brings a smile to Amanda's lips that she doesn't quite hide behind the lid of her macchiato. At one time, she would have never put those words together, would have been convinced that Olivia hated her. Now, she's not sure what she would do without the woman who's become such a major part of her life. Amanda takes another drink of the scalding liquid. "What's next for you?" Now that Charles is dead and the fear of reprisal is gone, she wonders what will happen to Stephanie and Emily. Amanda glances back over to the girls, each bundled up against the elements but enjoying the fresh air as only a child could in these chilly temperatures.

"My sister lives in Johns Creek and has invited me and the girls to come stay with her for as long as we need," Katie purses her lips, concern filling those bright emerald eyes. "I hate to pull them out of school in the middle of the year, but I spoke with the girls and none of us want to return to that house."

Amanda rests her arm on the back of the bench and props her head in her gloved hand, swinging her foot back and forth. "You can have it cleaned up and sell it."

Katie nods, "I think that's what I'm going to do." She pauses. "I've had a few inquiries on his auto dealerships, too. Between that and the life insurance policy..." her voice trails off, her jaw tightening. "We'll be taken care of."

Amanda watches Stephanie and Katie as they run around together, older sister patiently indulging the younger, reminiscing about the times she and Kim would play like that.

Before the drugs. Before the gambling. Before it all went so wrong.

"It's funny," Katie murmurs quietly, interrupting the morose thoughts. "We've never been more secure in our lives...but I'd give all of it back if I could turn back the clock and protect my girls from Charlie."

Frannie issues a low whine, and Amanda leans down, untying the puppy's leash from the bench and scooping her up in her arms. The pit bull lathes her face with frantic kisses, Amanda smiling as she tries to turn away from the persistent tongue.

"How about you and Olivia?" Katie asks. "Do you all have plans for what's next?"

They do. Or rather they did. With the trial looming it's hard to think of anything else.

"Liv asked me to move in with her," gently clamping a hand over Frannie's muzzle to stop the licking, smilng with amusement as the puppy tries to squirm away. "Assuming we can get the charges dropped."

"They'll be dropped, Amanda," Katie's intense green orbs focus in on hers. "I know it."

 _That makes one of us._ Amanda frowns, still scanning the playground. Both girls are now climbing on a large wooden structure in the middle of the lot, so there were no worries there, but something seemed out of sorts.

Someone is watching them.

"Is everything alright?" Katie frowns, head spinning towards the girls.

"It may be nothing," Amanda says, cautiously setting Frannie back on the ground and tying her leash up. The hairs on the back of her neck are standing on end, but when Amanda turns her head, the feeling is gone.

"Katie, did Charles have any enemies?" She hadn't shared any details about what they found on the hard drive — not until they knew for sure Emily wasn't one of the children on there — the last thing Amanda wants to do is worry her unnecessarily.

Katie frowns. "Actually none that I know of. Everyone loves, I mean, loved him."

"Do you know anyone who'd want to kill him?" It seems like a stupid question, especially given the circumstances, but Amanda's mind couldn't just stop being a detective.

"Besides me?" Katie's eyes darken with anger. "I wish I knew who did it so I could give them a medal."

There it is. That feeling again.

Not wanting to alarm Katie, but wanting to see what is out there, Amanda smiles, rising to her feet, stretching her arms over her head, her grey sweatshirt riding up slightly around her waist.

"Katie, don't make any sudden moves and don't stare or let your eyes linger for too long, but is there anyone behind me that's looking at us?"

The brunette goes very, very still, green eyes searching her own blue ones, but she nods.

"There's a man behind you taking pictures of us and the girls," Katie's voice was a startled squeak, eyes widening in fear.

"Stay calm," Amanda wonders if this is the guy who framed her, resolving to find out. "What is he wearing? Look but don't stare."

"A um," she swallows, "um, a hooded green jacket, jeans, baseball cap, sunglasses. What do we do?" Her breathing is starting to tremble slightly in panic.

Hooded green jacket and sunglasses? It sounds like someone's trying to hide, but she can't look over her shoulder yet. Not yet.

"He may be the man who set me up. Either way I have to know why he's taking pictures of me. In a second, I'm going to take off after him, and he's going to run. I want you to call the girls over and the three of you stay right here at this bench with Frannie. I'll be back as quickly as I can."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

 _I don't have much choice_. Thinking about her name on Charles' floor. This may be their only lead.

It was stupid, but at this stage she's desperate enough to do stupid.

So she smiles at Katie, nodding. "Sure I'm sure. We do this all the time."

At least _she_ does.

Even Olivia would agree with her on that.

God, Olivia is going to _kill_ her.

Then Amanda takes off.

The man is exactly where Katie said he would be, and he takes off as soon as he realizes he's been made.

Behind her, she can hear Katie shouting for the girls and Frannie barking, but Amanda focuses like a hawk on the man trying to evade her. She vaults over a low-lying wall, ignoring the pain in her body, pounding down the sidewalk.

He's fast, she'll give him that, but foot traffic is slowing him down, and as they reach the corner he runs into a pair of shoppers, knocking the bags from a pair of older women.

"Hey!" One of them, a tall, skinny woman with black hair and a hawkish nose calls out, throwing her hand up in surprise and frustration, clutching the sides of her wooly coat with the fingers of her other hand.

"Sorry!" Amanda races past her, sprinting down the sidewalk as she tries to keep pace with her stalker. He's a little further ahead now, and Amanda pushes herself faster than she has ever run before, her feet barely skimming the surface of the ground. Her head is pounding, heart racing, ribs screaming from the exertion of breathing and her prior injuries.

God if only she had her gun.

Her target takes a sharp right, and Amanda slows down just enough to round the corner into the alley behind him, darting around a large green dumpster that services both buildings.

Something crashes hard against her back, sending Amanda sprawling, her clothes ripping, skin tearing as she slides across the concrete. Her arms instinctively cover her head, protecting herself from yet another concussion.

Olivia _is_ going to _kill_ her.

When she finally comes to a stop, she's unable to move, as if all of of her prior injuries have finally caught up to her. It takes her at least a minute to roll to her knees, crying out softly in pain. Her jeans are ripped around her left thigh and on her knees, her sweatshirt torn and splattered with blood. Her head is ringing, her knee is bleeding from scraping along the ground, and she thinks she may be even _more_ bruised, as if that's even possible.

Amanda tries to put her feet underneath her body only to drop back down onto her hands and knees, a wave of nausea causing her to heave.

"Amanda, what the hell?" The voice is familiar, but her eyes are still filled with tears and she can't quite put a face to the name. A hand closes around her arm, instinct causing her to scramble back from whatever good samaritan is trying to help her. "Mandy what happened? Why did you leave the park?"

Finally, she's able to blink back the tears, Matt's figure coming into slow focus. "What," she pants, groaning as she tries to push herself to her feet. "What are you doing here?"

"I was trying to keep an eye on you," Matt reaches down, helping Amanda stand up. "Woah there," he grabs her arm when Amanda sways dangerously, keeping her on her feet though just barely. "Easy."

" _You_ were the one taking pictures?"

Matt frowns, using his body weight to help support her until she's able to stand on her own, "Pictures, Mandy? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I was chasing a guy who was taking pictures of us." Amanda grabs her side, hunching over and wincing as it twinges. "And you didn't answer my question."

" _No_ I wasn't the one taking pictures. Mandy someone's trying to set you up for _murder_. You can't go chasing after every man who looks at you funny." Matt chastises her, shaking his head in exasperation. "You need to lay low."

"Yeah well it's not your life on the line if this case goes south," resting her hands on her knees, Amanda looks up at him. "Why are you helping me anyways?"

"We've known each other forever and you need to ask me that question?" Matt appears genuinely hurt, his hands on his hips as he shakes his head. Pacing around in a circle, his red tie flutters slightly in the breeze. "I'm trying to get to the bottom of this and solve the case, same as you are. As far as _why_ I'm here, I've been trying to keep an eye on you since this whole thing started."

Amanda stands up, stretching her back, grimacing at the pain spanning her shoulders. What she wouldn't give for a hot shower right about now. "I thought as far as Atlanta PD is concerned I'm guilty."

"Yeah well it's not the first time I've disagreed with my bosses on a case," Matt raises a small spiral notebook. "We found this in your uncle's house. It looks like he was collecting money on a regular basis from people. We just don't know what for. I thought you might know."

Amanda turns and regards her friend — one of the only ones she has left down here, taking the notebook and flipping through it. There were no last names, so it's hard to know who is listed here. "I might know what it's about." She takes a shaky step, waiting for the bile to settle. "Charles had a ton of kiddie porn on his computer. Our TARU guys cloned his hard drive before you guys came in, We think he might be involved in a sex trafficking ring and it might involve other people here."

Matt is silent for a long while, his mouth opening and closing, processing this news. "Okay, we need to look at those photos. One of the people in them has to be responsible for framing you."

A sharp pain lances through her head, her jaw slamming shut as she presses the heel of her hand against the side of her head. "Gah... right now I need to go back to my hotel and pop a ton of aspirin."

"Tomorrow, then," Matt's hand gently closes around her bicep. "I'll be at your hotel after lunch."

Amanda nods, feeling hopeful for the first time in days that they may make a breakthrough on the case. Especially with so many minds working on it from so many angles.

Matt smiles broadly, linking his arm through hers. "Let's go get that family and little dog of yours. I'll drive you back to the hotel."


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: So I almost lost my ability to access my stories after updating my computer, which totally sucks, because I had to get another program to read the old files on my updated Mac, so this writer was not a happy camper.**

 **It's put me in that kind of mood that's solved only with Christmas cookies, Rolivia smut, and/or a houseful of puppies and kittens.**

 **We're getting close to the end of this story. My plan afterwards is to clean up some of the errors and glitches in my stories and maybe post a few chapters of Need while I finish working on my outline. There'll probably be a break between the stories. I've been writing non-stop ever since I posted Relapse. Plus I want to make sure any stories I write are of the same quality and high standards I've been trying to maintain.**

* * *

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 21**

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

When they get back to the hotel, Olivia stumbles over to Frannie's travel crate, releasing the rambunctious puppy, who immediately began trying to jump into Olivia's arms.

"Down, Frannie," Olivia points a finger to the ground, rolling her eyes when the puppy immediately begins licking and nipping at her finger, not at all concerned with such uninteresting things like sitting and staying.

"Well trained dog you got there Liv," Fin teases, laughing, reaching down and scratching Frannie behind the ears. The puppy seems immediately entranced by Fin and begins to wag her tail even harder, trying to bite the corner of his black boot with barely-erupted canines.

"She's just a baby," Olivia rolls her eyes, reaching down and scooping up the Pitbull. "Come on, Frannie let's go for a walk."

"Mind if I make myself comfortable here?" Fin flings himself onto the low-lying hotel couch, leaning back and propping his boots on the coffee table.

"Sure, make yourself at home," Olivia mumbles under her breath sarcastically, clipping Frannie's red leash to her collar, grabbing her black leather jacket from the closet and wiggling into it awkwardly. It wasn't easy with Frannie's leash in one hand. "Be back in a few."

She carries Frannie into the elevators, partly because she can and partly because she doesn't want a hefty fine if the puppy has an accident. Once outside, she lowers her to the grass, waiting for the puppy to do her business.

How is she supposed to tell Amanda that there just isn't any evidence to exonerate her? That their only possible chance in court is to prove someone else killed him. They don't even know who the players are down here, and if it is about blackmail there could be an endless supply of possible suspects. An investigation into them all could take weeks, of not months.

She is standing there so long that Frannie starts whining around her feet, and Olivia starts walking back to their hotel room. Amanda is there when she returns, chatting with Fin. Olivia's eyes widen when she takes in the blonde's disheveled appearance, the cuts, the scratches, the bruises. Her jeans are torn and her shirt is ripped, and her hair is half-pulled out of her ponytail.

Amanda and Fin are standing in the middle of the living room, arguing back and forth, none too quietly at that, oblivious to the fact that Olivia is standing in the doorway with Frannie's leash loosely dangling from her right hand. Both of her detectives are startled when Olivia's voice cuts through the air with whip-like efficiency. "Fin! Amanda! What the hell happened? What's going on here?"

Amanda tenses, her eyelids fluttering closed before turning to address Olivia. "It's not a big deal. Some guy was taking pictures of me and the girls and I gave chase. I tripped. I fell."

 _This is absolutely unbelievable_. "You tripped and fell and this happened." Amanda's lying. Olivia can just tell – she's been a cop too long to buy into a load of bullshit that's handed to her.

"You know what?" Olivia reaches down abruptly and unclips Frannie, kicking the door shut behind her. She rips her jacket off, tossing it onto the couch. "We're trying to help you stave off a fucking murder conviction," Olivia starts stalking towards Amanda, jaw clenching until she's right in the younger woman's face. Fin takes a cautious step back, glancing between the two women. "And you want to play games and get even more charges added, so go right the fuck ahead."

She doesn't bother waiting for a response. She already sees the way Amanda's eyes are filling with tears. Sees Fin reaching for her arm, even as she turns away to hide her _own_ tears that are already starting to well up. Olivia shakes off his grasp and makes her way through the bedroom into the bathroom, sinking onto the toilet and wrapping her arms around her midsection.

She almost killed a man today. And not in self-defense, not in the defense of another person or to stop a crime from happening. All her life she feared that there was a violent monster inside of her and today that monster reared its ugly head. Olivia focuses on the white subway tile on the bathtub wall, blinking hard as a tear slips down her cheek, not bothering to swipe it away.

What is she even doing here? This is not her jurisdiction and even if it was, this isn't a case _she_ should be working. Amanda seems to solidly have Matt in her corner and they've got the best attorney for Amanda that money can buy. At this point...

"Hey."

Olivia closes her eyes, ignoring the way another tear rolls down her cheek, rocking back and forth as she struggles to regain some of that precious control she lost today. "Hey," she whispers back to Amanda.

The blonde slowly makes her way into the room, kneeling down beside Olivia, resting a hand on the brunette's knee as she looks away, angry for herself for crying in the first place.

"You were right, you know," Amanda says softly, reaching up and dragging her fingertips through Olivia's brown tresses, cupping the older woman's cheek in a tender caress, her thumb swiping away the remnants of Olivia's distress. "I made a mistake chasing him by myself. I should have called you or Fin or Matt." Olivia clenches her jaw, Amanda's confession seeming like too little, too late. "I guess I'm was as frustrated as you were when you pulled the gun on Sal earlier."

Olivia's head whips around, laser-like focus coming to bear on the blonde.

"He told you about that?" Of course, he told Amanda about that. Fin was so worried about her state of mind that he stayed with Liv until Amanda came home. Olivia shakes her head, dropping her chin, "Of course he did."

Amanda peeks her head underneath Olivia's until she's forced to meet her gaze. "Liv, making mistakes is part of being human. Now I'm sorry I ran after a perp without backup and I'm sorry I tried to lie about it." Olivia blinks, clenching her jaw as Amanda reaches up and captures her chin between her thumb and forefinger.

"The truth is I chased him into an alley and he clocked me across the back, sent me flying. Then he disappeared when Matt chased him off." Olivia's head snaps up, lips parting at the admission. "He's been tailing me during his off hours, I guess, trying to see if someone is watching me and who might have it in for me." A pause. "And before you ask, yes, he already read me the riot act about my actions." Amanda's lips quirk upwards. "You can go ahead and do yours at any time."

Olivia stares into those crystal blue eyes that seem to bore straight into her, filled with compassion and fear and love, and any lecture that has been hovering in the back of her head dissipates. Instead she leans down, drawing Amanda into her arms and pressing a kiss against her forehead.

Amanda's arms slide around Olivia's waist, the younger woman burrowing her face into the side of her neck and clinging to Olivia. They stay like that for a long moment, each woman drinking the other in, when Amanda speaks. "Did you really shove a gun under Sal's chin and threaten to kill him in front of that gorilla of a bodyguard?"

Olivia's lips curve upwards ever-so-slightly, tugging Amanda even closer. "Yeah. I did."

A pause, and then a kiss presses itself against her neck. "So, does this mean we'll get to be cell mates?"

Olivia snorts. "God, I hope not. Last thing I want is to be stuck in an eight foot by ten-foot cell with you for the rest of my life, Rollins." Amanda pinches her side, causing Olivia to squirm underneath her.

"As long as I'm by your side, I can think of worse places to be."

* * *

"So, the only thing you found at the crime scene was this list of names and amounts?" Amanda frowns as she scrolls through the list on Olivia's laptop, trying to match up the names to any faces she recognizes from the porn ring. The blonde is dressed in a NYPD T-shirt, flannel pajama pants, and fuzzy red socks. A large, gauzy bandage is taped across her arm, and Olivia knows from experience another one is on her side, her back, her ribs, and her knee. A pair of small butterfly bandages cross the gash on her forehead.

After they made up after their fight, Olivia had insisted on dressing Amanda's wounds, and surveying the extent of the damage. Aside from a nasty bruise across her back when the stalker hit her with what Olivia guesses is a length of plywood, Amanda is dinged up pretty well along her left side, which is the side she slid with along the ground. They showered together, Olivia carefully attending to Amanda's wounds before dressing them. Ideally, Olivia would like to have her checked out in the emergency room, but Amanda insists it's just scratches and bruises.

"Given what TARU found on his hard drive, I'm betting we can match up this list to the faces in those pictures," Olivia forks another mouthful of her Pad Thai, savoring the spicy sweet burst of flavor on her tongue, the brunette's eyes scrolling the computer screen. She's wearing a purple tank top and matching flannel print pajama bottoms. Her bare feet are propped on the coffee table, with Frannie sleeping underneath, the young puppy snoring and occasionally growling in sleep.

After their showers, the ladies decided that tonight they would order in and spend the evening trying to figure out who on Charles' hard drive might harbor a grudge against him and Rollins.

"The problem as I see it is it's been five years since I've been here," Amanda frowns, eating her own Pad See Ew. "Patton's an obvious choice. And Sam. But I can't see either of them doing this," Amanda waves to the screen in obvious disgust at the photograph that's being displayed. "I don't recognize a lot of the faces on these screens."

Amanda's right, in a way. While Olivia wouldn't put it past Patton or Sam do try and get revenge, neither of them fit the profile of a pedophile. "So why the rush to judgement?" Taking another bite of her noodles. Blue eyes meet brown. "I mean someone went through a lot of trouble making the footage that would alibi you disappear."

"Are they trying to hide the fact they're in on this ring?" Amanda rests her cheek against her closed fists, pondering. "It'd make sense — I mean we did stumble across the child porn ring by accident."

Olivia wishes she had never taken Charles' computer from his house in the first place. Nothing but trouble and heartbreak had followed in its wake. "That would explain why they followed you and why they convinced the homicide chief to toss our room and arrest you — they were trying to find out what you knew without clueing us in." Olivia frowns, taking another bite of her noodles. "But what I don't get is stealing the casino footage and stalking you. Why?"

Amanda shrugs, taking another bite as she chews thoughtfully. "To discredit me? If I'm in prison people will be less likely to listen to me, right?"

"Unless they want you to trade them names in exchange for a reduced sentence," Olivia points out, frowning as she realizes how impossibly long the list of perpetrators is.

"So, we're looking for a person who could be anyone in the DA's office or police department who has a grudge against me _and_ who is involved in some capacity in a child porn ring that my uncle was _also_ involved in?" Amanda sets her fork down, rubbing her temples in frustration.

Olivia can empathize. Put like that, it seems an impossibly large task, akin to finding a needle in an entire field of haystacks. Yet here they are, needing to do just that. And the clock was ticking. The brunette scoots closer to Amanda, wrapping an arm around her and setting her noodles aside. "Listen, if this is too much for you..."

Those big blue eyes are blinking back tears, Amanda setting her own food down as she meets Olivia's gaze. "It's just that ... how are we supposed to do this, Liv?" She rubs at her eyes with one finger. "There's just a few of us and..." she gestures helplessly to the laptop. "We don't even know the rules of the game."

Olivia kisses Amanda's forehead, laying back against the back of the couch and pulling the blonde with her. "We break it down into manageable chunks until we see how the pieces fit together. Now," Olivia says, pulling the laptop onto their laps as they continue scrolling through pictures. "We have two angles to explore — Charles' murder and the child pornography ring."

"I think you're in a better position to investigate the murder," Amanda says, halting her progress as her eyes finally fall on one familiar face that finally appears on Charles' hard drive. "Is that...?"

"It is," Olivia smiles as she leans forward, engaged in the picture on the screen. "And that might explain why you have no alibi."

"Then we need to..."

"Tomorrow," Olivia rests a hand on the forearm of the younger woman. "Tomorrow I'll take Fin and we can go speak with him. Didn't you tell me Matt is coming over tomorrow to see if we can match some names to faces here?"

Amanda nods, letting Olivia take over the computer for a moment so she can mail herself the related batch of pictures. When she gets the computer back she says, "So far I've only recognized him and that judge from awhile back." Amanda sighs, leaning back in her chair.

"We've got a little way to go," Olivia reaches up and cups Amanda's cheek with her left hand, brushing her lips against Amanda's, resting her forehead against the younger woman's. "Are you good for this?"

"Yeah," Amanda threads her fingers through Olivia's hair. "I love you, Olivia." Her eyes open, peering into the fathomless pools of dark chocolate brown.

"I love you, Amanda."


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: I'm going to be out of town for the next several days, so I'm giving you all an early Christmas present. Safe travels, Merry Christmas, don't do anything I wouldn't do, which isn't a lot, and enjoy.**

 **For every review Santa finds a home for a puppy and kitten. Reviews are love.**

* * *

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 22**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

Amanda reaches out with her right hand, tapping with her index finger on the keyboard, flicking through yet another disgusting image. Beside the computer, a small notepad Amanda took from the desk in the hotel is filled with a short list of names. After working with Olivia yesterday evening and by herself for a few hours this morning, she's found two judges, two police officers, and one city official she recognizes.

Yet it is only a fraction of the photos on the hard drive.

Amanda leans back in her chair, tucking a leg underneath her body and releasing a huff of air that sweeps her bangs to the side. She feels a tug on the leg of her jeans, sharp little teeth biting into her ankle and jerking from side to side.

"Frannie!" Amanda sighs in exasperation as she gets up and scoops the dog off the floor, where she's been tugging at the hem of her jeans for the past forty-five minutes. The puppy has been a handful today, and with Matt coming soon, Amanda's not in the mood to deal with her. The blonde places Frannie in her crate, along with a rawhide to help silence the puppy, breathing a sigh of relief when Frannie is drawn to the chew toy.

Amanda pads back towards the desk, picking up her phone and flicking through the text messages Olivia sent her. The brunette had purchased a cheap burner cell after Amanda's phone was confiscated by Atlanta PD, and has taken to sending her periodic messages of affection or encouragement. Amanda had only one number programmed into speed dial, and bringing up the last message, her blue eyes skim over the text.

 _ **O: Be back soon, sweetheart**_

 _ **A:**_ **Stay safe. Don't pick any fights with Tiny while you're there.**

 _ **O: Tiny?**_

 _ **A:**_ **That's what they used to say about his...**

 _ **O: LoL. I will. Have fun with Matt. Love you.**_

 _ **A:**_ **I'll call you when we are done. I love you.**

Amanda smiles, closing the phone and putting it in the left pocket of her pants. Redoing her ponytail, Amanda tugs up the sleeves on her long-sleeved blue track suit, resting her forearms on the edge of the table, clicking through image after image, doing her best not to vomit.

A knocking on her hotel door results in Frannie erupting in a flurry of barks, yaps, and growls, Amanda palming her face in resignation, shoving to her feet and walking to the hotel door, turning to look at the crate as she passes it.

"Enough, Frannie!" Dropping her hand, Amanda shakes her head, opening the door to see Matt standing there with his hands in the pockets of his brown leather jacket.

"Afternoon, Amanda. You're looking a sight better than yesterday," Matt steps inside, smiling at Amanda, who closes the door behind him. Both detectives look towards the crate, where Frannie is growling, baring her teeth like the fierce guard dog she is not. "Taking on strays?"

"Careful, or I'll turn her loose on you," Amanda nudges at the other detective as they start walking towards the dining table at the far side of the room. "She was a gift from Liv – I got her a few days before we came here. She's been in a mood all day, though."

"Of course she has," Matt snorts as he pauses in front of the crate, looking at the growling puppy. "She's _your_ dog." Laughing when Amanda smacks him across the back of his shoulder. "What's it going to do, bite my shoelaces?"

"Okay, first off, she's not going to be small forever. Secondly, she has better taste than gnawing on your grungy clothes." Nodding over to Matt's t-shirt and ripped jeans, his Adidas running shoes. "You lose a bet or something?"

"Hey, I'm off duty, Mandy," Matt nudges her lightly as he pushes to his feet, the pair making their way over to the dining table, Amanda taking a seat in front of the computer, and Matt taking the chair to her left. "And helping you on my day off, I might add."

Amanda smiles, pushing good-naturedly against her friend. "True, I haven't thanked you for that." Her smile disappears, glacier blue eyes growing serious. "Thank you, Matt. I mean that."

A broad grin spreads across Matt's handsome features. "Anytime, Mandy." Dark eyes glance down at the scratch pad next to the computer. "These are the people you recognize from the images?"

"It's not much, but yeah," Amanda looks back to the computer, crossing her feet at the ankles, maneuvering the mouse and starting to parse through more photographs. "Recognize any of those names?"

Matt nods, poking a finger at one of the names on the list. "Sal Harris – he's a low level thug. He's come up in a few investigations. How do you know him?" His eyebrows raise high, darting over to Amanda.

"I ran across him a couple of times when I was a uni," Amanda mutters, not really wanting to go into the sordid details of her gambling exploits. "We just found out about him yesterday," Amanda leans forward, resting her elbow on the table and putting her chin in her hand. "Liv and Fin went over there to see if it's related to the missing footage from my murder case."

"Seems like a good plan," Matt nods in approval, grimacing as he looks at the computer screen, shaking his head and looking over at Amanda in disgust. "You do this for a living?"

"Unfortunately, comes with the territory in sex crimes," Amanda starts parsing through photographs again. "Too many times."

"Glad I chose homicide – at least we don't have to deal with living victims," Matt mumbles, his eyes widening as he cocks his head to the side, nodding to the screen. "That's Terry Wilkins over at the fourth precinct."

Amanda scribbles the name down on her pad.

"I actually like working in SVU," Amanda continues clicking through the images, "getting justice for the victims is really satisfying." She pauses, thinking of just how much she's grown since leaving Atlanta. Not just professionally but personally. The blonde rubs her chin thoughtfully. "I've become a better detective because of it."

"If you say so," Matt seems dubious, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm glad it's not me."

Bit by bit, they begin to move forward, adding a name here and there – a governor's aide, a deputy sheriff, a few high-powered criminal defense attorneys, a well-known preacher.

"I always thought maybe you'd come back to Atlanta when the fuss died down." Matt glances over at her. "Maybe come over to homicide."

Amanda smiles weakly at Matt, shrugging her shoulders. Back when they were in the academy, that had been the plan. But, assigned to different precincts once they graduated, she and Matt had found separate interests, gradually drifted apart. Before this trip, they hadn't spoken in years.

She's never really considered before that maybe, just maybe, Matt had been interested in more, but there's definitely an undercurrent of _something_ behind his words.

At one point in time, she might have considered it.

But Olivia Benson he is not.

"I guess I just needed a fresh start," Amanda clicks methodically through the photos, eyes fixing determinedly on the screen, biting the inside of her lower lip, aware that he's still looking at her. She hopes he'll let it drop. She doesn't really want to get into a conversation about her relationship with Liv.

Matt's gaze lingers just a moment longer than is comfortable, but eventually he shrugs, pushing to his feet as he stretches his arms high over his head. "Still, homicide is a lot simpler. Dead is dead. None of this going back and forth 'he said, she said' crap." He paces around in a circle as he arches his back, eventually resting his hands on the back of Amanda's chair, looking over her shoulder at the computer screen.

"So how'd your bookie get mixed up in all this?"

"I have no idea," Amanda shakes her head, the rhythmic click of her fingers against the keyboard the only sound in the room, her eyes skimming back and forth between the list and the computer. Her right index finger halts mid-click, glancing over her shoulder. "How'd you know he's my bookie?"

Matt rolls his eyes, straightening. "I'm a detective, Amanda. I've had to interrogate him more than a few times. I know what he does for a living. And if I recall, you like to hit the tables, or has that changed? How else would you know him?"

Amanda simply stares at him, dumbfounded.

"Amanda, you bet in every single office pool in the precinct." Matt crosses his arms, unperturbed. "You came to every single poker night, and won more than a few of them until Ricky found out you could count cards."

Amanda shakes her head, rolling her eyes, remembering their mutual coworker and how irate he'd been when he realized she had been feigning ignorance when it came to playing cards. Turning back around, Amanda begins parsing through the images. "Well, those days are behind me."

"Then why'd you go to the casino?" Matt seems amused, leaning over her shoulder, dark eyes studying the computer screen.

"I didn't go into the..." Amanda's voice trails off, fingers halting mid-click, trying to remember if she'd ever mentioned a casino in Matt's presence, or in the presence of anyone from Atlanta PD.

No, she's kept that detail between herself and her close-knit circle.

That's when she feels it against back of her spine. That's when she hears _it_.

The telltale click of a gun cocking.

 _No._

"It was you?" Somewhere deep in her chest, her heart is twisting painfully, though in the back of her mind she's still caught between that horrible sense of disbelief and betrayal. Matt was one of her oldest friends — they graduated high school together. They went through the academy together.

 _He's a homicide detective, Amanda. He knows everything that APD looks for. He knows everything to do to frame someone for murder._

Her breath is coming in low, shallow bursts, cerulean eyes blinking back tears.

 _This entire time he's been helping us — we thought he's been helping us — and he's been keeping tabs on us all along._

"Why?" Her teeth slam together, jaw clenching as her hands ball into fists, refusing to let _him_ see her cry.

She won't let him have that satisfaction.

"You're a smart girl, Mandy — oh, sorry, I mean _Detective_ Rollins — you tell me."

Amanda closes her eyes, ignoring the steady pressure of the cold metal barrel against her back, her mind swimming. She really, really wants to reach into her pocket to dial Olivia, but there's no way to do that without alerting Matt, especially with him standing behind her.

"Matt, if this has to do with the computer or the blackmail I haven't seen anything, I swear," Amanda is half-hoping he'll believe her. If he's involved in this in anyway Amanda will absolutely find out and she will make sure they let her slap the cuffs on him personally for the sheer hell he put her through.

There's a sharp crack against the back of her head, smacking against the knot that already existed there, tears springing to her eyes despite her best efforts to suppress them, her ears ringing.

"I'm not an idiot, Mandy. I know why you took his computer." Matt's harsh breath burns against her ear, grabbing her left bicep and squeezing it painfully, causing Amanda to wince when he twist sharply, jerking her arm behind her back and pinning her against the table.

"We took his computer to see if pictures of his daughter were present," Amanda cries out in pain, her shoulder popping painfully when he jerks her wrist behind her back.

"And if you hadn't done that, we wouldn't be here," Matt releases her arm, grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging her head back, bringing the nozzle of a pistol against the side of her temple. "But you involved your lieutenant, and made copies of his fucking hard drive," he slams her head into the keyboard, opening up a gash across her forehead, a thin trickle of red snaking its way down the side of her face.

Bile rises in her throat, and Amanda finds herself dry heaving, struggling to keep from losing her stomach's contents over the laptop. The room is spinning, Amanda realizing that there's a distinct possibility she's going to pass out from the jolt to her head.

But there is also a clarity there, the pieces starting to fall into place.

"You're in these photographs." Amanda's stomach churning as her suspicions are confirmed, threatening to expel its meager contents at the realization that one of her oldest friends is a pedophile, and that he set her up for murder.

Matt drags her back to her feet, the back of the pistol pressing so firmly into her back that Amanda's certain to have an imprint. "You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?"

"Matt I swear to God we had no clue," Amanda's eyelids flutter closed when he slides the gun up to the back of her head, her mind at once going to Olivia, grateful at least that she'll have Fin with her when she returns to find her dead body. Wishing that she could say goodbye.

The blow to her kidney catches her off guard, tears springing instantly to her eyes as she cries out in pain, her knees buckling, Matt's hand closing on her bicep to keep her upright.

"You stuck your nose where it didn't belong, Mandy." Matt pushes the gun into her back, nudging towards her hotel room door. "Too bad for you."

"It's too late to destroy it Matt," Amanda switches gears, trying to buy herself some time. If Matt moves her, there's no way Liv and Fin will find her. "They have the data from the drive. It's only a matter of time. Do you really want to add another murder to your rap sheet?"

The nozzle of the gun presses harder against her back. "Shut up and start walking. Now."

Amanda closes her eyes, gritting her teeth. "And if I refuse?" At this point, she can't see that she has anything to lose. There's no way she can see herself getting out of this alive.

"Then I will pay a visit to those sweet little girls next door." He wraps a meaty arm around her neck, constricting her airway, a struggling Amanda's hands curling around his bicep. Her blood turns to ice at the chilling threat. "Is that what _you_ want?"

"No," Amanda whispers, the air rushing from her lungs as his arm tightens around her throat, tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes. Amanda's chin digs into Matt's arm, trying to create the space to breathe, her eyes squinting shut, the image of Stephanie and Emily flashing behind her closed eyelids, thinking of everything those girls had been through, what they were still going through.

"Okay," Amanda's body relaxes, her body going slack. "You win, Matt."

"You win."


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's note: Happy New Year everyone! I hope your Christmas was filled with lots of love, lots of puppies, and lots of kitties.**

 **And maybe a baby goat in pajamas.**

 **Thank you all for your reviews - I've been kinda in a non-writing mood but the more feedback I get, the more inspired I am to try to work on more Rolivia deliciousness.**

 **So keep those reviews coming - each review sends a box of puppies to someone in need.**

* * *

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 23**

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Standing outside the casino, Olivia and Fin stare at the blue steel door, silently studying the three cameras pointing in three separate directions — including hers.

They've been standing there for the better part of five minutes, silently watching, just waiting. The alleyway acts like a sort of wind tunnel, the wind whipping through the copper-burnished highlights in her hair, the wavy tresses flying every direction in the breeze. Her dark trench is a buffer against the cold air, hands shoved deep into the pockets, fingertips lightly brushing the grip of her service weapon. Neither she nor Fin have pulled their guns, not wanting to risk the appearance of impropriety after Olivia's meltdown the previous day.

"How do you want to play this, Liv?" Fin has one hand under his coat on the grip of his service weapon, and the other hanging loosely in a fist. He's prepared to go in, guns blazing, to smoke out the little weasel from his burrow, but he's secretly relieved that Olivia seems a little more rational, a little more calculating, than she's been since this all went down. It's been difficult enough watching his partner suffer through the tragedy of having her secrets uncovered and her name dragged through the mud. Watching his lieutenant and good friend fall to pieces makes him want to shoot something.

Someone.

Maybe multiple someones.

"Hopefully without violence," Olivia mutters, pulling out her phone and flipping to the email she sent herself yesterday. She walks towards the camera pointed in her direction, holding her phone up so Sal gets a good look at the small screen. "Sal, these are the pictures I found on Charles Beckett's hard drive. I know he was blackmailing you. I know you were paying him to keep this quiet." She pauses. "And all I want to do is talk about the man who took that missing camera footage of Amanda."

She goes silent, waiting.

One minute passes.

Then five.

Still no word.

"Fin," Olivia's voice projects loudly against the surrounding buildings, "call Atlanta PD. Tell them we have a pedophile running an underground casino that needs arresting. I'll get my contact in the FBI to put a rush in this." She pauses, then louder, "the feds give five years per count. With the number of photos I have on my hard drive he'll be long dead before he is eligible for parole. That's if he survives being a known pedophile in federal lockup." She's practically shouting at the end, daring Sal to test her on this.

 _Come on, Sal. You know I'll do it. Just talk with us._

"What do you want?"

Olivia almost wants to cry when Sal's voice crackles through the intercom.

"We need to know everything about the person who took your missing security footage." Olivia's arms drop, the lieutenant sticking the phone back in her pocket. Whoever took that footage has to be responsible for killing Beckett and framing Amanda. Those missing hours are the key to everything. They have to find them.

"And what do I get in exchange for this information?" Sal's response is hostile, and more than a little distrustful.

 _It is my own damn fault._

"The computer that has the only copy of these images." She lies easily, knowing that TARU has already cloned the drive and forwarded the pertinent data to the FBI – so it doesn't matter if Sal gets the computer, he'll serve time.

But he doesn't need to know that.

"And I'm supposed to buy this?"

"You can take your chances in lockup." Olivia raises an eyebrow, shrugging her shoulders, acting as if she could care less what Sal does. Her stomach churns, icy tendrils of fear gripping her heart. It's the only hand she has left to play. And Amanda's life depends on it.

"Some cop came by and told me if I didn't give him the footage he would make life very difficult for my establishment."

 _Establishment? This hole in the wall?_

"This cop have a name or a description?" Fin cuts in impatiently. He's lost nearly as much patience with this creep as she has, and Olivia can tell by his voice that he's teetering on a knife's edge of control.

"I don't know, average build, brown hair and eyes. Name was Mark, or Mitch, something like that..."

Olivia's head snaps up, brown eyes leveling on the camera, her blood turning to ice. Her heart skips a beat, twisting painfully in her chest, fear making every breath tear at her chest. "Matt?" She can barely say the name, brown orbs sliding to the ground, her vision blurring.

 _It's not true. It can't be. Please, God, no._

"Yeah, that might have been..."

Olivia didn't wait for Sal to finish talking, racing to the car, Fin hot on her heels. Olivia can barely feel her fingertips as she tries to dial the number for Amanda's burner phone.

How could she have missed this? What kind of detective fails to pick up on the fact that the only person willing to help them clear Amanda's name had ulterior motives?

Looking back, all of the signs were there. Matt inserted himself into the investigation from the very start, pretending to be Amanda's friend, pretending he was on their side. And they believed him. They let him follow their investigation because they believed he was on their team. Was he trying to push them off course? Was he trying to find out what they knew?

Oh God, he's alone with Amanda right now.

Olivia's hands are shaking as she brings the phone up to her ear, sliding into the passenger seat of their sedan, Fin taking the driver's seat, something Olivia is extremely grateful for. She's not sure she can stop trembling long enough to steer the car back to the hotel. And besides, Fin drives faster than she does.

Even if his driving has a tendency to make her nauseous.

The phone is ringing now, and Olivia closes her eyes, her mouth moving in silent prayer. Her right hand grips the door of the car as it lurches forward and turns onto the city streets.

" _ **You have reached..."**_

Olivia punches the button to redial. "C'mon babe, pick up. Just pick up."

"Liv, did Amanda say what time Matt was coming over?" Fin's voice is tight, tense as he navigates the tight turns and hairpin curves of Atlanta's city streets.

" _ **You have reached..."**_

 _God damn it._

"I have no idea, Fin, just get us there." Her fear and her frustration is starting to rise as she Olivia hits the redial button once more.

"Copy that Liv, I'm trying." Fin's voice raises slightly as Olivia is thrown against the door, her head cracking against the glass hard enough to stun her momentarily.

She hadn't thought about putting her seat belt on.

Her fingers are still tightly gripping her cell phone, and Olivia glances down at the screen, surprised to see that it was still connected to the call. She shakily brings the receiver to her ear.

"Amanda, honey?"

There's only some muffled sounds on the other end, and Olivia narrows her eyes as she strains to hear what's being said.

" _ **...gonna find out it's you."**_

She can't hear what's being said on the other end, she can only assume with growing horror that it's Matt based on what she can hear.

" _ **...force me to pull the trigger?"**_

"Oh God he's trying to stage her suicide." Olivia is pretty sure her heart just stopped beating, envisioning the setup in her mind's eye. She didn't see it, why hadn't she seen it?

Amanda's going to die and it's going to be her fault.

"Where's she at? The hotel?" Fin's voice was low, urgent.

" _ **...not gonna go back to that house..."**_

Olivia' head snaps up, turning in Fin's direction so quickly her brain rattles. "Charles' house. Get us back to his house, now! And get Atlanta PD on the phone," unaware that her voice has risen to an uncomfortable decible, Fin wincing as his gloved left fingers fumble for his own phone.

" _ **...no, of course I'm not recording..."**_

 _Shit_. Olivia punches the 'call end' button. She can hear Fin speaking in low, hurried tones, something about tracing Matt's phone, something about backup.

Olivia closes her eyes, waiting, hoping against all odds that Amanda won't pay for her stupidity.

Her phone begins buzzing.

 _Damn it._ Olivia punches the 'call answer' button, bringing the phone to her ear and answering as calmly as she can. "Benson." Her chin quivers slightly, lower lip trembling as her eyes squeeze shut. She releases a shaky exhale, praying she gets a chance to talk to Amanda.

There is a long, silent pause, and then Matt's deep southern drawl, " _ **Now I don't think it's very polite to eavesdrop, Lieutenant Benson."**_

Olivia's eyes flutter closed. He knows. He knows that they know he's guilty.

"What do you want? Name it."

" _ **Now I don't think you're in a position to make demands, Lieutenant. Though it's mighty kind of you to offer."**_

"How about a trade then?" Hopefully she can keep him talking long enough that Sam's people can reach him. She closes her eyes and swallows but speaks without hesitation. "Me for Amanda. That's a fair trade."

His laughter echoes in her ears. " _ **You must think I'm stupid. By the time you get anywhere in my vicinity I will be long gone."**_

"If you harm a hair on her head I will make it my life's mission to hunt you down," Olivia's speaking through her clenched teeth, her hand gripping the passenger door handle.

" _ **You know the house, honey,"**_ Olivia can hear Matt speaking to Amanda, and guesses he is forcing her to drive at gunpoint to Charles' house. **"** _ **N**_ _ **ow Lieutenant, I'm well aware that Mandy is a ... fine piece of ass, but let's be honest, she gets around. I'm sure you'll find another detective in your unit to replace her in no time."**_

"You son of a ..."

" _ **Now, now, pick a side, right or left."**_

"What?" Olivia frowns, her brow furrowing in confusion. What is Matt talking about? In the background, she can hear Amanda sobbing, pleading, begging. He can't possibly think she'd participate in...

" _ **Pick. A. Side."**_

 _Oh God… he's going to shoot her._

"Please don't do this," Olivia begs, her eyes tearing immediately. "Take me. Let her go. Let me speak to her. Please, I'm begging you."

A shot rings out, and there's a muffled scream that's matched by Olivia's own, nearly dropping the phone in shock.

" _ **Now why didn't you do as you were told?"**_

The phone hangs up, leaving Olivia staring at her hands in stunned silence.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Notes: Thank you all for your kind reviews. I really appreciate it, especially those readers I haven't heard from before. Here's your next chapter. Reviews are love.**

* * *

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 24**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

Amanda stumbles towards the front door of Charles Beckett's house, trying not to cry out with every excruciatingly painful step on her left leg. Matt's arm tightly grips her left bicep, hard enough to bruise, the back of his pistol shoved tightly between her shoulder blades, pushing her towards the dreaded front door.

She had just put the car into park when Matt shot her in her left leg, the bullet grazing her thigh and tearing open a shallow but very painful channel in her flesh. Her flannel shirt is tied tightly around the wound, but even that cannot stop the seeping of her crimson blood.

"Why are we even here?" Amanda can't for the life of her figure out why Matt hasn't killed her yet. He's been discovered by her girlfriend and her partner — he has little choice but to flee now and pray Olivia doesn't catch up with him.

"Open it," he snaps impatiently, dark eyes scanning the otherwise cheery neighborhood. Amanda fumbles with the key, her fingers not quite obeying her mind's commands, finally locating the correct one and unlocking the front door, stepping into the house that is at the center of so many of her nightmares.

"Matt why bring me back here?" Amanda repeats, hobbles towards the end of the couch, resting nearly all her weight on her uninjured leg, turning around and glaring at him with unfettered hatred. If he is going to shoot her, she wishes he would just do it, sparing her the theatrics. "If you're going to kill me, just get on with it. It's not like you haven't shot someone before."

Matt is calmly tugging on a pair of black leather gloves, using his teeth to assist him, loosely keeping the weapon pointed in her direction at all times. "You're forgetting that everyone believes you are the one who killed Charlie."

Anger pulses white hot through Amanda's body, fists clenching, tears blurring her vision, ignoring the pulsating throb in her leg. "Why are you doing this to me, Matt? I wasn't anywhere near this house when Charlie was shot."

"Perception is everything," Matt says calmly, switching the gun to his off hand so he can tug his other glove on. "Your prints, your DNA was at the scene. His hand wrote your name next to his body." He wipes down the gun, removing his fingerprints from the weapon.

"He was _dying_. _How_ is that even possible...?" Amanda's voice trails off, and this time she cannot stop the tears from escaping down her cheeks as her eyes flutter closed. " _You_ did it. _You_ made it look like I killed him. _You_ were the first one on scene. Why?"

Matt's features darken in anger, gloved fingers tightening around the grip of his pistol. "Your uncle had been arranging those _parties_ for years. I came over to talk to Charles about those photos. To try and make him see reason. Instead I find him on the edge of death, bleeding out on his living room floor." A sadistic smile curves the corners of his lips. "Seems like your uncle crossed the wrong person. But I needed to know who took the hard drive. And then he said _your_ name."

Amanda swipes against her eyes, taking a shaky step towards her former friend. "Those _girls_ were too _young_ to consent, Matt. How could you even...?" Amanda's voice trails off, looking at the man who's become a stranger. "You sick bastard." Her heart nearly flutters to a halt, feet stopping when Matt takes an angry step forward, leveling the pistol between her eyes. In the next instant, Matt draws his fist back, burying it into her abdomen, the wind rushing from her body in a strangled gasp.

Amanda hunches over, arms instinctively crossing over her stomach only to reach back when Matt grabs her by the hair, jerking her head back and shoving the barrel of the gun under her chin, her heart stopping at the painful press of metal against bare skin.

"Shut the fuck up, Mandy." Matt hisses, his voice shaking ever so slightly, Amanda realizing that Matt is unraveling, teetering on the edge of the precipice. Her throat constricts, eyes fluttering shut as she obeys, knowing that any further insults will result in the squeezing of his trigger. She's been shot twice over the course of her lifetime, and she wonders if it will hurt when the third shot kills her.

Matt grips her by the arm, and she offers only a token resistance as he steers her towards the center of the living room, her mind racing as she tries to figure out a plan of escape. Fin and Olivia are too far away – they'll never make it in time.

If she's going to make it out of this alive, it's up to Amanda to figure it out.

"You made quite an impression, Mandy, storming into Sam's office, demanding he run that rape kit. The entire precinct was talking about it. It really wasn't hard to set it up from there."

An entire room full of witnesses, listening to her scream about Charlie's abuse.

Matt kicks at the back of her leg, the one she's been shot in, knocking her to the ground on all fours, Amanda crying out in pain as the fiery pain spreads through upwards throughout her body, tears springing to ther eyes.

"Why?" Amanda's head spins to face Matt. "I haven't done anything to you." She gasps for air when Matt jerks her head back, wrapping an arm around her neck, pointing the gun to her right temple.

"You took Charlie's computer, Amanda," his heated breath burned against her ear, Amanda's fingers clawing at his shirt, nails scrambling for purchase. "You put your nose where it didn't belong. You and that bitch girlfriend of yours." He cocks the hammer of the gun. "Now, I staged a murder, I can easily stage a suicide. But you get a choice, Amanda. Either you can pull the trigger, or I can."

Amanda closes her eyes, tears tracking steadily down her cheeks, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. She is shaking so hard her teeth are chattering, her right hand coming up towards the handgun.

Amanda thinks of Olivia and those warm brown eyes which are always filled with light and love. Her perfect smile, filled with humor and joy. Her touch, so self-assured yet so tender.

If she dies, Olivia will be devastated.

Amanda has to at least _try_ and live.

And even though it is nearly impossible to breathe, she ducks her chin, trying to create a little space to work with, eyes drifting closed when her hand presses against the hilt of the gun, trembling.

It's a small chance. But it's a _chance_.

"Can I...at least breathe?" She winces, gasping for air. She grabs at his arm for emphasis with her other hand, hoping he will loosen his hold. Even if it's just a little.

He does.

Amanda throws her head back at the same time she turns the gun, the sound of the gunfire renders her deaf. Behind her she feels the snap, the crunch of bones breaking against her skull, a muffled scream.

She shoves against the ground, launching herself upright, body swaying woozily due to her loss of equilibrium.

She can't run. She's not faster than a bullet.

So she can at least try to _fight_.

"You bitch," Matt screams at her, left hand clasped over his nose, blood snaking its way through his fingertips. Keeping one wrist locked on the gun, she spins, elbowing him in the eye.

Or at least trying to.

She misses, Matt ducking his head at the last second, throwing himself at Amanda, who hears a painful pop in her left kneecap as she lands wrong. She gasps in pain as Matt kicks her, catching her on her stomach, in her head, and on her cracked ribs. He throws himself on top of her, pinning her across her neck with one arm, his blood dripping onto her face and murder in his eyes. He brings the gun up to the right side of her head.

"I am going to wait here for until that partner of yours and your bitch girlfriend of yours to arrive," Matt hisses, eyes filled with raw, unfiltered hatred, bringing his mouth down to the ear.

His next words stop Amanda's heart cold.

"And after I finish killing him, I'm going to _take_ her, and _break_ her," he hisses, "and the last thing she is ever going to see will be _my_ hands wrapped around that pretty little neck of hers."

It's getting more and more difficult to breathe, spots actually swimming in her vision as his forearm cuts off her air supply. Still, she uses whatever strength she has left to grasp for the gun, drawing on every last ounce of her reserves, fighting him for control of the gun.

The loud bang of gunshot echoes in the otherwise silent house.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: Okay, okay - I'm going to have to hire bodyguards to protect me from the lynch mob coming after me for the last three chapters. Just remember that if you kill the author you'll never know how the story ends.**

 **I do however take bribes in all forms, including baking, large denomination bills, small furry animals, and smut of the fanfic variety (*coughSheepcough*).**

* * *

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 25**

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Olivia and Fin have just pulled up to the curb outside Charlie's house when the sound of gunfire snaps through the air. Terror sinks its claws into her heart, and without much conscious thought Olivia is outside the car, racing to the front door, sidearm in hand.

She shouldn't be going at it alone. She should wait for Atlanta PD, which can't be far behind her. She's told Amanda that very thing numerous times, both in a professional and personal capacity. But all reason flees her head when she hears that gunshot, and when two more echo out in rapid succession she flings her body against that front door, feeling it's weight splinter beneath her. From there it's only a quick turn and a few steps into the living room, where Olivia skids to a halt, frozen in stunned horror.

Matt is on top of Amanda, body weight pinning her down, and under them both is a rapidly spreading pool of blood.

Both of them are motionless.

"Amanda!" She doesn't bother to clear the scene, another clear violation of protocol, instead running over to where the pair lay and skidding to a stop on her knees. She pushes him off Amanda, his body flopping bonelessly to his side, Olivia pointedly ignoring it, her eyes scanning Amanda's body, which is covered in blood and completely still.

God, the blood. They're both absolutely soaked in it.

"God, Amanda please," Olivia's arms slip around the younger woman's body, sobs starting to shake her shoulders. She is too late. She and Fin are too late. She's sobbing too hard to register the footsteps that skid to a halt just inside the door. Olivia lowers her mouth to Amanda's hair, sweat-soaked and caked in grime and blood, her cries the only sound echoing in the still of the room.

Sirens are screaming outside, their noise getting louder and louder, but some switch inside her head tunes it all out, focusing on the little flecks of blood on Amanda's eyelids, kissing each one before brushing her lips against her cheeks, then pressing her mouth against Amanda's.

Which moves, ever so slightly under her own.

Olivia's eyelids snap open, the most beautiful crystal blue eyes peering wearily into her own, and when she cries this time, it's tears of joy.

Amanda's fingertips reach up and brush her cheek, trailing along the ridge of a pronounced cheek bone, resting gently on her lips. Olivia reaches up to capture those fingers, kissing them, eyes beginning to skim over the blonde's body. "Fin, call a bus!"

Amanda's mouth opens, no sound coming out. The blonde tries to shift in Olivia's arms. This time she's able to manage a few broken phrases. "Not. Mine. Shot. Him. Leg." Amanda grimaces, and Olivia looks down to where Amanda's shirt is wrapped around her left leg, saturated with blood.

"I know baby," Olivia whispers. "Just hang in there." Determined that this will exonerate Amanda. That this will not come back on her. Mocha brown eyes peer down with pure adoration, her arms still cradling Amanda, when Sam and his detectives arrive, the Atlanta police officers staring on in stunned silence at the chaos that greeted them.

"Is Mandy alright?" Sam kneels down next to Olivia, looking at Amanda in concern, propping his weight on one hand as his eyes scan her body.

"Bastard shot her in the leg," Olivia mutters darkly. "Was planning on killing her." Any more than that they could not know more until Amanda was more coherent. The other detective is standing over Matt's body, fingers pressed to his pulse point. He shakes his head after a few seconds.

"Get the coroner over here," Sam instructs, shaking his head in disbelief, "and get CSU to process the scene."

"It was self-defense Sam," Olivia snaps sharply, dark eyes snapping towards the other man. "I heard him shoot her."

"I know that," Sam raises his hands in a pacifying gesture. "I have to process it regardless."

She knows that, instinctively, but reason seems to flee her when a certain blonde detective comes into play.

"Liv?" Amanda's voice sounds even tinier than before, and brown orbs glance down, struck by how pale the woman in her arms is. Those blue eyes are looking at her, sleepily. "I'm cold."

There's a rustling sound behind her and then Fin sweeps down, tucking his leather coat around his partner's body.

"Where's my bus?" Olivia is getting more worried now, Amanda's shirt is completely saturated with blood and her hands are growing cold.

Just as Fin opens his mouth to speak, the approaching sirens come to a stop outside, spraying the walls of the room in a kaleidoscope of red, yellow, and blue. Fin pushes to his feet immediately, and Olivia can hear him running outside for the paramedics.

"Liv," Amanda appears on the edge of unconsciousness. "Don't leave."

"I won't, sweetheart," Olivia kisses her fingertips as the paramedics step in. "Never again."

"I'm going to have to ask you to step back, ma'am." One of the paramedics, a young female with brown hair and eyes, is apologetic, but gently guides Olivia out of the way so she can set up a blood pressure monitor, while her partner immediately gets a collar around Amanda's neck.

Fin's hands are closing gently around her arms, drawing her away. "Let them work, Liv."

She can barely see anything through her tears and she rubs angrily at her eyes. "Where will you be taking her?"

"She'll be going to Emory, ma'am," the technician that slid the collar around her neck, a middle-aged male with black hair and brown eyes, answers. He's currently working an IV into Amanda's arm while his partner is wrapping bandages around Amanda's leg to stop the bleeding. The male paramedic tapes the IV line down, his hand squeezing a bag of saline into Amanda's arm.

"BP seventy over forty administering one liter of lactated ringers," he says, his partner repeating everything verbatim. Olivia's lips purse into a fine line, hating that she can only watch helplessly by while the EMT's work.

"Alright let's move her." Together they roll Amanda on her side, slipping a body board beneath her, loading her onto the stretcher. The entire time they are squeezing more fluids into her. "Let's roll."

Olivia chases after the pair, Fin right behind her, and she watches while they load and secure Amanda's stretcher.

"I want to ride along," Olivia steps up to the female EMT, reaching up to grab

"Ma'am we only allow family or law enforcement..." her tone is apologetic, but firm.

"I'm both," Olivia flashes her badge so the technician can see it. The EMT shrugs, nodding her head for Olivia to get in.

"I'll meet you there," Fin calls out. Olivia nods and waves, taking her seat in position while the younger tech hops in behind her.

"I'll need for you to stay out of my way, ma'am," The tech's tone is firm, brokering no argument.

Olivia nods, moving a safe distance away and reaching out to touch Amanda's fingers. They are warmer than before, and a quick glance up at the heart rate monitor makes Olivia pleased to see that Amanda's blood pressure is going up.

"Hang in there, sweetheart," Olivia reaching up to stabilize the blonde as the ambulance lurches forward. "Hang in there, sweetheart."

* * *

She should be used to the beeping of hospital monitors now.

It seems like they've come full circle — Amanda starting this saga off in a hospital room and ending it in a hospital room.

The blonde's porcelain skin appears pale in contrast to the white bedsheets of the hospital bed, a testament to all she's been through.

In addition to another concussion, she has bruising to the trachea, a pair of broken ribs, a chipped bone where she was shot, a sprained right ankle, and fifty-two stitches on her leg and sixteen staples in her head. She required two blood transfusions from the blood loss from being shot.

It is going to a long road to recovery.

Olivia shifts uncomfortably on her makeshift hospital bed. The nurse was kind enough to bring her sheets for the small blue pullout bed that lined one wall, but her feet hung off the end if she stretched out so she was resigned to sleeping hunched over.

Amanda had been in surgery for almost two hours, and had only arrived in this room about an hour ago, the doctors wanting to keep her under extra observation due to her previous concussion. Olivia spent the intervening time arranging for Katie and the girls to watch Frannie. Fin had just finished up at the crime scene — he's on his way over to the hospital to check in with Olivia and Amanda and then he's returning back to New York. Their unit is grossly understaffed as it is and she can't justify keeping him any longer.

Olivia is just starting to drift off to sleep when a shadowy presence draws her attention. The brunette looks upwards, blinking blearily at her detective, pushing herself into a seated position and stretching her arms over her head. "Hey Fin," she says sleepily, blinking the last dredges of weariness from her eyes.

"Evenin' Liv," He tucks a cup from Starbucks into her hands, taking a seat in the black plastic chair beside Amanda. "How's our girl?"

"She'll pull through," Olivia says softly, taking a sip of the steaming coffee and humming in contentment. "It'll be a long road before she'll be able to return to active duty. Two months, at least, and only after clearing doctor and psych evaluations."

"She's gonna love that," Fin muses, drumming the fingers of his left hand against his leg. They sit in silence for several minutes before Fin speaks again. "You guys are serious." A question, not a statement.

Olivia nods. "I am," taking another sip and wondering why hospitals are always so cold. "I asked her to move in with me, Fin."

Fin smiles, whistling low. "Go Liv. I was wondering when you guys were gonna stop playing around."

Olivia looks up, shocked. "You knew?" They'd been so careful to hide it, to act as if nothing was going on.

"Liv anyone could see Rollins was ... is... absolutely crazy for you," Fin says matter-of-factly. He pauses, gingerly adding. "And how crazy you are for her."

"We'd been so careful to careful to hide it," Olivia murmurs, thinking back all those years, to all those little signs. The fights, the push and pull, the resistance each of them put up to calling their relationship what it was.

"Rollins was crazy about you from the time she first joined our squad," Fin leans back, crossing his arms across his body. "Eventually you came around."

"When did you get to be so observant?" Olivia eyes trace across the sleeping woman's features, swallowing thickly when she realizes just how close she came to losing her _again_. Wondering if she has the strength for this, to really let herself love unconditionally, when it can be taken away that quickly and that easily.

God, it would _kill_ her to lose Amanda.

"You okay there, Liv?" She can't mistake the concern in Fin's voice, the way his dark eyes soften.

"Yeah," she takes one more sip of coffee, carefully sets the cup on the floor, laying back down on her makeshift bed. "I'm gonna catch a few. You staying?"

Knowing Fin shares her concern about leaving their room unguarded. Neither of them really knew if Matt was working alone.

"I'll be here for awhile, Liv."

Olivia nods, laying on her back, bending her knees, and closing her eyes. She was asleep within moments.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: I'm sorry for the delay in the update. My dear wife was kind to remind me (as if I needed it), that I hadn't posted one. Somewhat bitterly, I might add. So, as a token of apology, a box of fluffy puppies will be sent to each and every one of you, as well as a tiny child hyped up on caffeine and pixie** **stix...**

 **Starting with the three monsters that like to wake me up at night by sticking their tongues up my nostrils, pawing at my arms, or hogging the space in the middle of my bed.**

 **Anyways - last week I was sick, last weekend I was busy, and I've also got things going on this weekend so I probably won't get the next update up until next week, but it's a long one, and I want to make sure it meets my high standards.**

 **I hope you feel that the wait will be worth it.**

* * *

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

 **Chapter 26**

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

" _Liv."_

The slightest rustling of scratchy fabrics and the faintest of whispers pulls her from the unending chain of nightmares that plagues the few hours of sleep she manages to get. Bleary brown eyes open, tanned eyelids blinking sleepily at the bruised and battered woman who is staring back at her. A small smile tugs the corner of the blonde's lips upwards, blue eyes rolling upwards in exasperation.

"You could have gone back to the hotel, Liv." Amanda shakes her head, watching as Olivia unfurl herself from the pretzel-like position she'd managed to twist herself into. "We've had an endless audience of nurses and doctors – or were you intending that when you decided to reenact every position in the Kama Sutra?"

Olivia lets out a harsh, barking cough as she pushes herself up on shaky arms, glaring at Amanda while releasing an aggrieved sigh. "And deprive myself of the pleasure of watching you scrape your jaw off the floor?"

They've had this conversation before. Several times, in fact. Some times they are joking, sometimes arguing. They repeat it every time Amanda sees the pretzel Olivia manages to contort herself into when she squeezes into the pullout, which over the past seventy-two hours has been at least half a dozen times.

She can't help it, though. The only way she's leaving this hospital room without Amanda is if someone drags her kicking, screaming body away in handcuffs.

She dares them to just _try_.

Every time she closes her eyes, she's afraid it's the last time she'll see Amanda.

Every person that comes in is a potential enemy, Olivia's hand instinctively reaching inside her jacket for her service weapon, her fingers leaving the pebbled metal grip only after confirming that it wasn't someone intent on finishing the job that Travers and Matt started.

Olivia grimaces, shaking her head as she tries to eliminate the last vestiges of sleep. "With the rate you get into trouble? You'll be lucky if I leave you alone to go to the bathroom." She stretches her arms over her head, listening to the satisfying pop as her vertebrae slide into place, dark green shirt raising slightly and exposing the barest hint of tanned flesh. Her back is killing her, but she'll be damned if she let's Amanda's stubborness outlast hers. Olivia stands to her feet, before walking to her lover and kissing her softly in an attempt to silence the blonde. "I take it you're enjoying your happy pills?"

No longer on the morphine, Amanda is down to taking prescription pain pills for the numerous post-surgical ailments she is afflicted with. The doctor only makes his rounds daily now, satisfied that Amanda is making strides towards mending. There's even talk of discharging her tomorrow, and Amanda is greatly looking forward to sleeping in a real bed, in Olivia's arms.

Amanda nods, her heavy-lidded gaze moving up and down. "An armed escort to go to the bathroom? Fun times ahead."

Olivia brushes her lips against the blonde's forehead, pleased to see that her coloring, and her sense of humor, was almost back to normal.

"You weren't complaining the last time I got you in my bathroom," Olivia grins as Amanda swats at her, capturing the younger woman's hand and brushing her thumbs across the scraped knuckles.

"If you decide to trade your badge in for a position as a yoga instructor, do I get a private lesson?" Amanda turns her head away, tugs her hand away, crossing her arms in mock pout. She looks like she went ten rounds with Tyson, but with that lower lip sticking out Amanda is still so damn adorable. "I can think of a few things to try in downwa..."

Olivia leans in and presses her lips to Amanda's, rolling her eyes, silencing the blonde and nibbling on that perfectly pouty lower lip until Amanda grabs her by the back of her head, trailing fingertips through chestnut tendrils before cupping the back of her head, pulling their lips together in a passionate yet fervent kiss.

They kiss until the need for air forces them apart, foreheads resting against each other.

"How much longer again until we can...?"

"The doctor says four to six weeks," Olivia mutters, breathing in Amanda's scent. She'd been allowed to wash her hair earlier, and had, in her bathroom sink, with Olivia's help.

"Fuck me – please tell me I won't have to wait that long," Amanda hand reaches up, clasping the back of Olivia's neck.

"I think I can arrange for something," Olivia whispers seductively in her ear, causing the blonde to twitch, goosebumps raising across the ivory skin. "But are you going to be a good girl and lie there and take it?"

"I did when you washed my hair," Amanda quipped, her lips brushing over the velvety skin of Olivia's neck, her tongue gracing the soft flesh of the brunette's earlobe. " _You_ were the one who couldn't keep your hands to yourself."

"The one time you've been known to behave..."

A loud cough and the sound of knuckles rapping against the hospital door startles both women, causing them to jerk apart, two sets of eyes looking over to the doorway where an uncomfortable looking Sam Reynolds is standing, one hand scratching the back of his head, dark eyes shifting anywhere but to the hospital bed and the two women.

"Captain Reynolds," Olivia still doesn't like him, isn't happy for his and his precinct's treatment of Amanda. But she has a begrudging respect to him for his squad's rapid deployment to Charlie's house when Olivia came calling.

"Lieutenant Benson, Detective Rollins," Sam nods to both women as he addresses them, stepping over the threshold and into the hospital room. He looks like he just came from the station, dressed in a grey suit and navy tie. "How are you feeling, Mandy?"

"I'm fine, Sam." Amanda's tone is a little clipped, a little curt, and Olivia can't really blame her. Amanda had become a pariah in her own squad room and she'd practically had to browbeat anyone in the Atlanta PD into listening to her. And they should have listened to her – listened about Patton, listened about Emily, listened about Charlie.

"I'm glad to see you're recovering," Sam says distractedly, his gaze looking just off to the side, and Olivia frowns. She and Amanda look at each other warily.

"I was just coming by to let you know that your cousin's case was closed," Sam says haltingly. "Charlie's hard drive is being analyzed and Victim's Services will be helping all of the injured parties get counseling and help with medical costs." He pauses. "We are also going to prosecute all of the individuals involved to the fullest extent."

Olivia thinks of Sal, and she smiles, imagining the look on his face when the police come knocking. It couldn't happen to a nicer guy.

Amanda nods, her lips pursed as she looks away.

"Your shooting of Matt, it was ruled justifiable," Sam continues, "you will not face charges for his death."

Amanda snorts, blue irises lifting in challenge. "Mighty big of you, Sam. What about my trumped up murder charge?" Left unspoken was any mention of the hell Amanda and Olivia had gone through as a result of that charge.

Sam purses his lips, looking away. A strange, sinking sensation settles in Olivia's stomach, the brunette studying Sam's reticence and mentally parsing through all possible reasons for it.

"Yeah, about that, Mandy." His brown eyes lift, moving between the two women. "Charlie's killer... turned themselves in, along with the murder weapon. Ballistics confirmed it. So those charges you were facing will be dropped."

Olivia and Amanda look at each other, wearing identical expressions of relief. Olivia hugs the blonde gently, kissing her forehead as they take a moment to let the truth sink in.

Finally, this long nightmare could come to an end.

"Who was it?" Amanda asks as she squeezes Olivia tightly, body relaxing for the first time in a week.

Sam's jaw clenches, his right hand closing around his black police radio, pressing a button. "Bring her in," he orders, taking a step to the side as the sound of rustling chains gets closer.

Olivia's breath catches, her heart skipping a beat when they finally appear. She can feel Amanda's body go rigid in her embrace, a startled gasp falling from barely parted lips.

Never. Never would she have guessed this. Not in a million years.

 _Anything_ but this.

" _Mama?"_


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Notes: Well, it's all been building up to this point. One more chapter after this and an epilogue, and this story comes to a close. Thanks everyone for the wonderful reviews. They really do make my day, even the ones I can't always respond to. I've had a lot of people asking me what happened to Charlie - I hope this doesn't disappoint. Please let me know what you think.**

* * *

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 27**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

Even in her jailhouse jumpsuit, Beth Anne Rollins looks perfectly put together. Not a blonde hair out of place, not a single wrinkle in her outfit, nails perfectly done and white tennis shoes spotless.

If it weren't for the handcuffs, she'd almost look normal.

Somewhere, in the back of Amanda's mind, she thinks she may have called for her. Vaguely, she's aware of Olivia's arms wrapped protectively around her body, but Amanda's heart seems to have stopped beating. Her eyes are locked onto her mother's, which are bright with unshed tears.

"Amanda, I'm so, so sorry for what you've gone through these past few days," a tear escapes the elder Rollins' eye, Beth not bothering to wipe it away. "After the ... unpleasantness with my late brother I went to go see your sister. When Sam told me what had happened to you, that you were being charged with murder, I came back as quick as I could."

"No," the word is a mere whisper from Amanda's lips, tears blurring her vision as she turns her head to face Sam. "She didn't do it. I did it. I killed Charlie." Her soul is desperately clinging to the hope that she can spare her mother this, that she can save her.

She already lost her dad. She already saw her sister go to prison. She can't lose her mother. She just can't. Her hand covers her mouth in an effort to catch the sob before it escapes.

"Amanda!" Olivia's arms tighten around her protectively.

"Mandy..." Sam shakes his head sadly.

"May I have a few moments with my daughter?" Beth's genteel tone is patient, soothing, and after glancing quickly between her and Amanda, Sam nods, walking over to the older Rollins and unlocking her cuffs.

"I'll be right outside," Sam clips the cuffs to his belt and nods to Olivia. "I'll give you fifteen, then we need to go." He leaves the room, nodding respectfully to his charge as he passes.

"Amanda?" Olivia's grip tightens around her, as if she can sense the younger woman unraveling beneath her fingertips.

"Don't go far, Lieutenant Benson," Beth walks up to the brunette's side, sliding a hand beneath hers and unflinchingly meeting her gaze. "I want to speak to you when we're finished."

Olivia's arms tense, the brunette turning Amanda's chin with one hand to force their gazes to meet. Olivia's deep brown eyes are filled with concern and worry, "Amanda are you okay with me stepping outside?"

Amanda nods, albeit weakly, and Olivia leans in, pressing a kiss against her forehead before reluctantly untangling herself and exiting the room.

Amanda spins, facing the woman who gave her life. Her heart is thudding painfully in her chest and a deep seated panic is causing her head to pound. Amanda's hands are shaking, and her mom slowly closes her hands around her daughter's.

"Mama what did you do?" The words are like sandpaper against her parched throat, and she can barely see the older woman through the tears.

"What I should have done all those years ago," Beth presses a kiss against her daughter's forehead.

* * *

 _The wind was cold, its biting tendrils snaking their way under her tan wool overcoat as she made her way up the walkway to her brother's front porch. Almost immediately, Beth could tell there was something wrong. The front door, normally closed, was cracked open, and inside she could hear her brother loudly swearing, and the sound of papers and books flying._

 _Cautiously, Beth eased her way inside, tucking her handbag close to her body as she slipped through the open doorway, closing it behind her. She should be nervous, but all she feels is an eerie calm as she surveys the damage._

 _The living room looked as if a tornado swept through, tearing cushions from couch, overturning the coffee table lamp, and sweeping magazines off tables._

 _"Charlie?" Her mother would be so upset with her if she'd heard her raise her voice indoors. A woman never yells. Southern propriety had been drilled into her mind from a young age, punctuated by a switch to the backside if one were to violate any one of its sacred tenets._

 _"Charlie, it's me, Beth." She begins walking towards Charlie's office. He was her junior by two years, the baby of the family. Maybe that's why she was always so hard on Amanda, the daughter that favored each of her parents._

 _"Charlie, where are you?" She found him in Emily's room, flinging stuffed animals about, and out of the corner of her eye Beth sees a flash of red. There is a dried blood stain on the mattress, and Beth frowns, leveling a stern gaze on her brother. "Charlie!"_

 _Her brother's head snaps up, a scowl marring his face as he glances over his shoulder. "What are you doing here Bethie?"_

 _"I could very well say the same thing," pulling her handbag in tighter, clutching it to her chest. "Where is Katie? The girls?"_

 _She'd never really liked Katie much — she was much too young, for starters. But the girls were sweet, and Emily especially liked those shortbread cookies Beth made the last time they visited._

 _"I don't know," Charles snapped, pacing out of the room and sweeping into Stephanie's room. "It's gotta be somewhere."_

 _It was absolutely mind boggling, how his entire family could be missing and Charles was preoccupied looking for — whatever he was looking for._

 _"What are you looking for?" Beth followed him, stopping in the doorway as he proceeded to tear books from shelves, throw pillows off the bed and rifle through drawers. "What could possibly be more important than your family?"_

 _"My computer is missing." Charles growled, storming out of the room and flying down the hallway into the living room._

 _"Your family is missing and you are concerned about a computer?" Beth tromped after him, determined to get answers once and for all._

 _Charles was down on all fours, peering under furniture, muttering none-to-quietly to himself. A habit he'd had since grade school, exacerbated by stress._

 _It was when Beth heard the word "pictures" that her blood turned to ice._

 _"Charles, stop this foolishness at once damn it."_

 _It was her use of explicatives that finally stalled her brother, causing Charlie to raise his head in irritation, running a hand through his disheveled hair._

 _"Bethie, this is not a good time..."_

 _Beth sets her handbag down, sitting on the couch. "You and I need to have a talk, little brother. So sit down now."_

 _Their eyes meet in a silent battle of wills, finally reaching a compromise. Beth sat, Charlie stood._

 _"Now, why is this computer more important than your family?" Family first, had always been the Beckett motto. It had been impressed upon them from a young age to always take care of each other first. She had always abided by that dogma._

 _Until today._

 _"I have some important files," Charlie tapped his foot impatiently, crossed his arms in front of his body, his body twitching nervously._

 _"This wouldn't have to do with that pornography unpleasantness, would it?" Beth calmly reached for her bag, her hand dipping inside._

 _Charlie's jaw dropped, his eyes going wide as silver dollars. "How did you...?"_

 _"I'm your sister, Charles. And I make it my business to know about anything with the potential to embarrass our family." Beth's eyes flash dangerously, her hand reaching into the bag. "Your eight year old daughter Charles. Really?"_

 _Her brother's eyes narrowed, raising a finger towards her face. "Don't you dare judge me..."_

 _Her hand closes around the cool metal grip, pulling out her revolver, leveling it on his right knee, and pulling the trigger._

 _The explosive sound of the bullet exiting the chamber, combined with her brother's high pitched scream, would probably haunt her until her dying days. But she had failed her girls once. She would not do so again._

 _"What the fuck did you do that for?" Charles gripped his knee between his hands, rolling around on the floor. His phone skitters across the floor, and Beth stomps on it, crushing it beneath the weight of her heel._

 _There will be no help for Charles Beckett tonight._

 _"That," Beth says calmly, "is for raping my niece." She levels the gun on him again, aiming for his other knee, and pulls the trigger._

 _Charles' scream was punctuated by Beth's calm verbalization._

 _"That is for the disgusting photographs you've been circulating." Beth cocks back the hammer, aiming for his right elbow._

 _Charles' eyes go wide, fear and horror on his face as he raises his hands. "Bethie please wait!"_

 _Her next shot goes straight through his elbow, drawing another scream as Charles rolls over, clutching his mangled elbow with his good hand. Just as quickly she shoots his other elbow._

 _"That was for my Kimmie." Tears are blurring her vision now, thinking of just how much she let her girls down. Her greatest failure as a mother was that she was not there for her daughters when they needed her most._

 _Another shot – and a scream that was perhaps louder than all the others. Her baby brother was now crippled, disfigured, writhing in pain on the floor, broken arms cradling his groin like they would shield him from the weight of her wrath._

 _"That was for my Amanda, God help her, I should have listened to her long ago."_

 _Charles was now sobbing on the ground, every motion excruciatingly painful._

 _But she's not done._

 _"I loved you, baby brother," blinking back tears, Beth Rollins placed the nozzle of her gun against his stomach. "But I can't let you hurt my family anymore."_

 _And she pulled the trigger._

* * *

Amanda stares at her mother, tears streaming down her face, and when her mother opens her arms, she doesn't hesitate, crawling into the hug as best as she can with one arm hooked to an IV bag.

"Oh, my dear sweet baby," Beth soothes, running a hand through her hair as she kisses the crown of her head. "I made a mistake all those years ago, and you paid the price. I am so sorry." Salty tears snake their way down the older woman's cheeks, soaking into her daughter's blonde tresses.

"Mama I'm so sorry." Amanda closes her eyes, falling even deeper into her mother's touch. "Please don't do this. They'll send you to death row." The thought of her mom lying strapped to a gurney, lethal cocktail pumping into her body, makes her heart twist painfully. "I can't..." her hands claw for purchase, nails digging into the jumpsuit. "I'm so sorry."

"Amanda, dear, you listen to me," raising her daughter's chin so their gazes meet. "You did nothing wrong. You took care of yourself and protected your little sister, raising her as surely as I did."

"Please...death row..." Even if they didn't execute her mother, they would definitely lock her up the rest of her life. Amanda would never get to touch her, or hug her, or kiss her.

Her mother's lips brush lightly over her forehead, blue eyes meeting Amanda's own. Beth's eyes are filled with tears.

"It's a mother's job to protect her daughters."

Amanda wraps her arms tightly around her mother, memorizing every curve, every contour. Her smell. The sound of her breathing.

"I'm glad you found someone who makes you happy," her mother whispers as the hospital door opens. "Does she treat you well?"

She's crying too hard to speak, so Amanda just nods.

"We need to go," Sam's almost apologetic, as if he hates to execute this duty he is sworn to uphold.

"No, God please no," Amanda clings even tighter to her mother. "I need more time."

A pair of arms gently wraps itself around her waist, and the bed dips behind her as Olivia crawls into the bed next to her, resting her chin on her shoulder. "We'll be back soon to visit her. Amanda you need to let go now and let the police do their job."

The arms that have raised her, held her, scolded her, loved her, slowly release her, pulling back only reluctantly as Sam steps up behind Beth. Amanda claps a hand over her mouth, muffling the sounds of her own sobs as her former captain places the handcuffs on her mother.

"Olivia," Beth Rollins levels a stern gaze on the lieutenant that is holding her. "You be good to my daughter. You take care of her."

The "or else" was left unspoken. The last person to cross Beth Rollins ended up with six bullet holes. It was expected Olivia would not fare much better.

Behind Amanda, Olivia nods, "you have my word." Her arms tighten around Amanda, as much to comfort her as to keep her from jumping out of the bed after her mother.

Beth Anne Rollins looks once more at her daughter, blue eyes filled with pain and regret. "I love you Amanda."

As her mom is taken away, Amanda buries her head into Olivia's shoulder, the sounds of her agonized sobs tearing through the otherwise silent room.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note: This is the final chapter in my story. There is an epilogue, which I will post within the next week or two, and then it all comes to a close. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed - it's really inspired me to write more and think hard on what I might do for a sequel to this one.**

 **First though, I'm going to take a bit of a breather - I've been writing like a slave for the better part of 3 months and I plan on going back and doing some editing on this piece while I work on the outline for the next installment.**

 **Reviews are love.**

* * *

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Chapter 28**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

She feels like she is drifting through a fog, demons from her past reaching sinister hands towards her, trying to pull her in a dozen directions until she tears into tiny pieces.

Shattered. There is no other word for it.

Amanda blinks bleary, bloodshot eyes, glancing around the now empty hospital room. The hospital lights are dimmed, telling Amanda that it's nighttime outside. Her surroundings seem stark, impersonal. The low-lying pullout couch is empty, the white sheets a rumpled mess. Amanda glances slowly over her shoulder, looking at the sleeping brunette who's refused to leave her side for the past twelve hours.

Olivia's eyelids are closed, lips parted slightly in sleep, soft puffs of air escaping with every exhale. One arm is tucked underneath the pillow, the other is wrapped around her waist. The brunette is still wearing the same clothes she had on before the showdown at Charlie's, never daring to leave Amanda's side for even a moment.

She's just as beautiful as when they first met.

Amanda slowly turns over, grunting at the lancing pain shooting through her ribs. Her pain medicine has long worn off, and between her burning left thigh, the stabbing in her ribs, the queasiness in her stomach, and the throbbing in her head, it's absolute agony to move.

Sleepy brown eyes blink open, the brunette stretching her body while Amanda turns to face her. When the blonde is finally settled, Olivia reaches up, trailing her fingertips along the contours of her cheek.

"How's the head?" Amanda breathes in the soothing lilt Olivia normally reserves for assault victims, pressing her cheek into Olivia's hand and closing her eyes.

"God awful." She admits truthfully, opening watery eyes to meet Olivia's. She shouldn't have any tears left. She had sobbed into Olivia's shoulder for what seemed like hours before falling into a fitful and restless sleep.

Olivia nods, brushing her lips against Amanda's and laying back, holding her arm out, inviting Amanda to curl up against her side.

She does, snuggling into the crook of Olivia's arm. There's a certain level of comfort in listening to the brunette's heartbeat, to feeling the rise and fall of her chest beneath her fingertips, and they lay like that for the longest time, until the sun has risen over the horizon, the hospital coming alive with activity.

"Do you think it's my fault all of this happened?" Amanda finally says, haltingly. Thinking that if she hadn't gone to her mom's in the first place none of this would have happened.

"Sweetheart, none of this is your fault. You were just an innocent victim caught in the crossfire." Olivia squeezes her gently.

"My mother killed her only brother because of me." Her mind is struggling to make sense of the meaning behind it all, under the suffocating cloud of guilt.

Olivia's head tips over her left shoulder, regarding her partner seriously. "Amanda, your mother did what she did because she is a _mother_. And frankly," reaching up to grasp the blonde's chin, brown eyes deadly serious, "I don't blame her. I wanted to do a hell of a lot worse the first time you told me, and that was before I read Emily's rape kit results."

"I would have taken the rap for it," Amanda's blue eyes are distant, her fingers idly tracing lines across Olivia's stomach.

"But that isn't your job, sweetheart, anymore than it was your job to go to prison for your sister," Olivia dips her head, brown eyes peering into Amanda's fathomless pools of blue. "You are one of the most selfless individuals I have ever met, sometimes your own detriment." A pause. "And now its time for you to start taking care of yourself, starting with the two months of mandatory leave you will be on when we get back."

And for once, Amanda didn't even try to argue.

* * *

Amanda drags her suitcase up to the trunk of the sedan with her left hand, Frannie's leash held tightly in her right, setting the suitcase by the edge of their car. After everything that's happened, all she wants is to drive back to New York with Olivia and start the next phase of their life.

There's not going to be a trial. Olivia secured Vanessa as her mother's attorney, and the lawyer worked every last contact she had to get her mother a deal. In exchange for pleading guilty to murdering her brother, Beth Anne Rollins will serve between fifteen and twenty-five years with the possibility of parole in a medium security facility.

Amanda supposes she should be grateful — her mother was facing the death penalty — but all she can think about is her mother behind bars, her only contact coming under the careful supervision of prison guards. Every touch, every hug, every conversation carefully monitored.

Olivia already told Amanda she should visit as often as possible. Amanda is more pragmatic — she knows that opportunities to see her mother will depend on her schedule at work. And she and Olivia are still debating her decision to transfer to another unit. Olivia seems to think there's a way to keep her in the 1-6, but Amanda is more dubious. Olivia's built up some cred, but that only goes so far.

She's got two months of enforced leave before she can return to work, and Amanda plans on spending that time combining households with Olivia, training Frannie, and going to as many meetings as she can possibly squeeze in. She will never forget the trouble caused by her near-slip.

"Hey sweetheart," Olivia's voice calls out over her shoulder, dragging her own suitcase along with a bag with Frannie's things. She lowers the suitcase beside the car, pulling out the keys and unlocking the sedan. "I brought some people eager to see you."

Amanda looks over her shoulder, seeing Katie, Emily, and Stephanie standing a little ways back. She glances at Olivia, who gives her an encouraging smile.

"Go on," she nods back to the trio. "Go say your goodbyes. I'll load the car."

The blonde nods, tugging on Frannie's leash. The puppy hasn't quite mastered the art of walking on the leash, and seems to have only two modes, resisting and pulling. Amanda feels a little bad for all the neglect Frannie's experienced over the past several days.

But as Olivia likes to tell her, often and repeatedly, it isn't her fault.

Some day, she may even believe it.

"Hello Katie," Amanda says genially, "hello girls." She tucks a hand into the pocket of her jeans, smiling as Frannie jumps up on a giggling Emily, lathering her with playful licks and jumping excitedly. The eight-year-old squeals.

"Hello Amanda," Katie smiles, giving the detective a friendly hug. "You're looking better."

Amanda shakes her head ruefully. Her bruises are turning a kaleidoscope of colors and her cuts are just beginning to scab over. She's still limping, with a heavy brace on her knee, ribs bound tightly, and the staples and stitches will have to be removed by a doctor in New York in six weeks. "I look like I went ten rounds with a prizefighter and lost."

"Did they tell you how long they expect you to need to heal?" Katie's eyes are sympathetic, aware that the extent of her injuries will necessitate a long downtime, and appreciative of the sacrifices Amanda made for her and her girls.

"Six weeks before I can resume light duty, another four before I can return to full duty." It was almost four weeks longer than when she'd been shot. But she guesses that multiple fractures and lacerations trump a single bullet hole any day. "Olivia tells me you and the girls are leaving today, too?"

Katie nods, squeezing Stephanie and Emily's hand, the younger girl burying a face into her mother's side. "Driving to my sister's tonight. The girls start school in the morning."

"That's great," Amanda says, glancing at the two girls, who seem less than thrilled at this revelation. Are you guys excited?" Resting her hands on her knees, she looks between Stephanie and Emily.

There was a lengthy pause, Katie finally nudging the pair, each girl mumbling a muffled 'yes' against their mother.

"Anyways, the girls and I wanted to come say goodbye and see you off," Katie glances down at her youngest, who's shyly clinging to her mother's arm and rocking back and forth on her heels. "Emily?"

The younger girl holds out a piece of paper she'd been clutching in her left hand, her right firmly locked around her mother's own larger one.

Amanda blinks in surprise, taking the paper and smiling gently at the younger girl. "For me?" She looks at the paper, which appears to have some crude stick figure drawings on it that are holding hands. Four of them have brown hair and one, which Amanda assumes is herself, has blonde hair. They're all smiling, and the sight of it brings tears to Amanda's eyes.

Emily nods, grabbing ahold of her mother's hand with both of hers.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Amanda reaches out a hand, cupping her younger cousin's cheek. Emily has a long road ahead of her, but Katie seems really committed to protecting her girls and helping them to heal. "It is beautiful."

Emily offers her a rare smile, still clinging to her mother's arm, digging the toe of her shoe into the ground.

Amanda pushes to her feet, looking over at Stephanie. The young girls's eyes are leveled on the ground, her green eyes suspiciously bright.

"Mind if we take a little walk?" Amanda's blue eyes drift over to Katie, who nods, and Amanda reaches out a hand to Stephanie. Stephanie stares at her hand for a moment, slowly linking fingers with the blonde. The duo starts to walk slowly towards away from the others, moving in silence for a seeming eternity until Amanda speaks.

"You did a really brave thing, Stephanie, to save your sister. You should be very proud of yourself. Not many people would have the courage to do what you did." Cobalt blue orbs scan the teenager's, trying to get a read on where her head is at.

Stephanie's bright green eyes blink rapidly, welling with unshed tears. "I'm sorry about your mom." Those tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "I didn't mean for that to happen." The girl clasps a hand over her mouth.

"What? Oh sweetheart," Amanda swallows thickly, and bends down so she's closer to eye level with the younger girl. She runs her hands up and down Stephanie's arms. "That wasn't your fault. Not at all. In fact," Amanda swallows again. "I know she was very proud of you for helping your sister."

Stephanie sniffs loudly, wiping the back of her hand under her nose. "Really?"

Amanda nods seriously, reaching into her wallet and pulling out one of her cards, passing it to the teen. "And Stephanie, if you ever need help again, I want you to call me, anytime, you hear me?" She brushes her thumbs along the teenager's freckled cheeks. "And you are welcome to come visit — just ask your mother first."

Stephanie nods, wiping her face in the crook of her elbow. The two are silent for about a minute when Stephanie lunges for Amanda, throwing her arms around her older cousin and hugging her tightly.

Amanda bites back a wince, clearly not expecting this. Slowly, her arms slip around her cousin, returning the hug.

They walk back to where the others are waiting, Olivia chatting amiably with Katie and Emily, broadly grinning at Amanda as she approaches. The blonde releases Stephanie's hand, leaning into Olivia's side, smiling when the brunette kisses her temple, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Girls, why don't you go upstairs and watch TV? Mommy needs to speak with Olivia and Amanda for a moment." Katie passes her hotel card over to the girls, who nod excitedly before taking off. Three sets of eyes follow them as they go inside.

"Amanda, Olivia, I can't thank you enough for everything you've done," Katie blinks back tears as she looks between the pair. "You saved my babies," looking towards Amanda. "And I know how much it cost you, Amanda."

Amanda's lips purse into a fine line, the blonde blinking back tears. Around her waist Olivia's grip tightens, the brunette knowing the heartache Amanda's experiencing.

"Anytime you need anything, just give us a call." Olivia hands Katie one of her cards.

Katie nods, reaching out and touching Amanda on the bicep. "Well, I better let you ladies go." Stepping forward, she hugs Olivia first, then Amanda. "Take care of yourselves"

Olivia and Amanda turn, heading for the car, Olivia to the driver's seat, Amanda to the passenger's. The second she opens the door Frannie wags her hindquarters, the puppy jumping happily. Amanda smiles, blinking back her tears, easing her way into the car seat and buckling up, pulling the door closed. She tugs Frannie back into her lap, burying her face in the puppy's short fur.

"You ready, sweetheart?" Olivia looks at Amanda, her gentle brown eyes filled with infinite compassion, and infinite love.

Amanda glances over to the woman who means more to her than life, who walked through hell and back for her, who fought for her, and who carried her when she couldn't take another step.

"More than," Amanda says, linking her fingers with Olivia's.

"Let's go home."


	29. Epilogue

**Author's Note: I think I heard the crickets chirping after my last update was posted. I'll be editing/updating this story as I correct some minor issues with previous chapters, so keep an eye out. Also on the horizon, some updates to Need, and some deep philosophical musings on "How my half-blind puppy can determine when I'm eating steak fingers: A treatise on puppies."**

 **All funds from my review proceeds will go to feeding my puppy babies steak fingers and rawhide-flavored blizzards**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **Epilogue (one month later...)**

 **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

"Where should I set this box, Amanda?"

The blonde pushes to her feet, ignoring the sting of sweat in her eyes as she blinks, peering inside the box wearily. Every single box, Carisi asks her the same damn question. Outside of cooking utensils, the man absolutely has no clue.

It's another box for the master bath, and Amanda fights the urge to rolls her eyes. She wishes the guys and Liv would let her actually _do_ something, but her colleagues have been absolutely insufferable about stepping in before she can get to do anything remotely strenuous.

If Liv had her way, Amanda would be sitting on her recliner drinking a glass of wine while the whole of the Manhattan SVU team moves two apartments in around her and Frannie. But Amanda refuses to treated like an invalid, and so without asking she'd immediately began unpacking, starting in the kitchen.

Their new place is bigger than Olivia's place and definitely bigger than her old place, if a little further away. After much debate, Amanda made a promise to Olivia not to make any hasty transfer requests. Olivia is subletting her place — and Amanda only has a month left on her lease before she is going to get a PO Box near their new apartment.

The boys have been really great, the SVU team closing ranks and denying any and all rumors about hers and Amanda's relationship. Not that there have been many. Inside the office, their relationship is what it's always been — that of colleagues, a lieutenant and her detective.

"The bathroom, Carisi," Amanda rolls her eyes, nudging her fellow detective good-naturedly. "See those curvy things on the side? They are called letters and they spell these things called words"

She can't resist teasing him — she never had a brother, and with the remainder of her biological family behind bars, Olivia and her squad are the next closest thing.

"Geez, Rollins, you're so mean," Carisi dances his way around Frannie, who is being a little nuisance but Amanda can't bear to keep her locked up all day.

"Frannie, come!" Pointing to her feet, smiling at the sound of tiny puppy claws skittering across the laminate. The tiny blonde puppy looks up at her, wagging her hindquarters vigorously.

Holding her hand palm up over the puppy, Amanda speaks, "Frannie sit."

Frannie plops her butt down, feet splayed out, looking at Amanda adoringly and panting happily.

"Good girl," Amanda smiles, pulling out one of the liver-flavored training treats she's taken to carrying around in her pockets, handing it to the puppy and rubbing her behind the ears. One good thing about two months off is that she's had nothing but time to pack and train Frannie. And with another month ahead of enforced desk duty, with nothing more than physical therapy and meetings on the agenda, Amanda plans to spend her remaining time unpacking and navigating her first genuine live-in relationship.

"How's she doing?" Olivia enters the kitchen bearing a box loaded with glasses and dishes, smiling warmly the pair she's affectionately labeled as 'her girls'. She slips her arms around Amanda's waist, resting her chin on the younger woman's shoulder, kissing her cheek.

"Really well." Amanda says. "She's coming along, I've got her recognizing five different commands — her attention span's pretty short, but she's still a puppy."

"Well as far as short attention spans," Olivia smiles against her cheek, "just look at her mama."

Amanda laughs, trying to elbow Olivia in the stomach, but the brunette dances away, dodging. Olivia steps in, wrapping her arms around Amanda, giving her a kiss, letting her lips linger.

"Hey you two, get a room," Carisi calls out as they pull away, a heated flush spreading across Amanda's features as she throws a dish towel at him. Olivia shakes her head, starting the task of pulling out the dishes.

"It's our apartment – maybe you should quit looking," Amanda teases with no real heat, knowing that he's only giving them a hard time.

"Yeah Carisi," Fin shakes his head, carrying a box labeled 'Bathoom'. "Most men would kill to get a piece of..." trailing off as Amanda and Olivia pinned him with identical glares.

"That the last of it, Fin?" The brunette asks the detective pointedly, the former barely concealing her grin, the latter setting his box on a stack of other unopened boxes.

Finn nods, "that's everything from Rollins' apartment. Same time tomorrow for yours?"

Olivia nods, "thanks guys, we really appreciate it." Combining households is no small task, and they were down a man, their sergeant having to pick up calls at the precinct. "Same time tomorrow?"

Olivia and Amanda walk Finn and Carisi to the front door, bidding the boys goodnight. Amanda has to keep nudging Frannie back, since she hasn't yet learned to keep from running out. They smile and wave, the brunette locking the door behind them, securing both the regular lock, deadbolt and chain, taking a deep breath.

"Olivia, you..." Amanda doesn't get a chance to finish her question, Olivia spinning around and pinning her to the wall with her hands held above her head, kissing the blonde passionately.

Amanda gasps, inhaling sharply through her nose, blue eyes slamming shut as she issues a throaty hum, right leg hooking around the back of Olivia's calf. A slow burn begins deep within the blonde's stomach, radiating in both directions as Olivia's tongue begins to plunder her mouth, lapping over palate, circling around tongue and tracing along teeth.

"Been wanting to do that all day," Olivia breaks the kiss to murmur briefly, not giving Amanda a chance to respond before thrusting her tongue back into her mouth, circling around Amanda's tongue and exploring the familiar warmth. The brunette slips her hands down the wall, grabbing the bottom of Amanda's blue ASPCA T-shirt and tugging it over her head, tossing it to the floor.

Suddenly Amanda is really, really glad she set up the bed in the master bedroom first.

Olivia reaches to the pale blue straps of Amanda's lacy bra, slipping one down, then the other, then reaching around and unclasping the undergarment before tossing it in the general direction of the door, fingertips skimming along the contours of Amanda's stomach and underneath hardened peaks.

"Oh my God, Liv," Amanda's nipples immediately pebble, the blonde scraping her fingernails across Olivia's back, her hips bucking into Olivia's. "If you don't take me to bed this instant I'm going to fuck you right here."

"I... fully... intend...to fuck...you...in every room...of this apartment," Olivia murmurs between kisses, her lips latching onto Amanda's neck while the blonde's hands slide down to the front of the Olivia's jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping the denim, pushing the pants over her lover's generous hips. "Maybe all in one night."

"I think I'm okay with that." It's becoming increasingly difficult to think, Olivia's hands and mouth are doing amazing things to her body, but there's just one thing she has to make clear as Olivia kicks her jeans off one leg, then the other. "You give me a visible hickey again and I'll give you one so large that even the chief will take notice."

Olivia smiles, though she eases up noticeably, grabbing Amanda's hands and walking backwards, tugging the blonde with her. Weaving through the maze of boxes that have to be unpacked, furniture that has to be arranged, and decorations to be hung or placed, Amanda likes to think it speaks well of their chances that they can't keep their hands off each other.

When they reach the edge of the bed, Amanda pulls off Olivia's green t-shirt, staring appreciatively at the way the brunette's tanned skin contrasts with the darker material of her navy bra. She slides an arm around Olivia's body, unhooking her bra with one hand.

"Show off," Olivia shakes her head, dipping her head back down and kissing Amanda, this time a great deal more gently, pulling her own bra straps down and groaning as their flesh comes into contact. The brunette pushes Amanda's jeans down, groaning when she realizes that the younger woman isn't wearing any underwear.

Okay, so maybe she'd been hoping a tiny little bit that Olivia would be in a mood once they were alone. But neither of them had been much in a mood, nor had their been much time, when they'd been busy packing up their places.

"God, Amanda, what you do to me," Olivia murmurs, pushing down her own underwear because if they don't make love this very minute she is liable to go insane. Pushing Amanda back against the edge of the mattress, the brunette crawls forward as Amanda scoots back onto the bed, eventually lowering her body onto the blonde's.

Their lips separate, brown eyes meeting blue, identical expressions of a love that's been tested and come out stronger.

"Welcome home, Amanda." Olivia whispers, regarding her with an expression of such infinite tenderness that it makes her heart race.

Amanda leans up, and brushing her lips along Olivia's, whispers softly. "Welcome home, Liv."

"Welcome home."


End file.
